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The Palms Of Her Hands

There is a girl that has my heart
Cradled in the palms of her hands,
If she squeezes it until it explodes
I will look at her and smile,
Rip a piece off of my shirt
And offer it to her as a napkin
To wipe away the blood,
I will not tell her that she was a loaded gun
I never meant to fire,
But for the first time in my life
I am not afraid of shattering upon impact,
We are hurtling towards
Something that neither of us can stop,
But she is the first person I have ever trusted
Not to drive right through me,
Never noticing that I wasn’t a tunnel until I met her



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