Hold me. And my thoughts. For now I am a little full. Some of it is pain. Of separations from the past. And the ones to come. And some of it is fear. Of being pushed down a cliff. It sure looks like water beneath. But what if it is shallow? Or just an illusion?
Hold me. And look at my eyes. Do my swollen burning eyes speak of the hundred awkward moments it has seen today? Or of the thousand smirks and chuckles it encountered? Or of the million words it consumed? Or how they have longed to see yours, all day?
Hold me. And my breath. And pump in some of the fresh air you exhale, deep into my lungs. And then smother me with your bare hands. And put me to a sleep so divine, that only death can better it.