I hold on tight, so much tighter that the blood erupts from the heart of other soul, that hurts me as much as it hurts the other soul. Yet I hold on. And on. Doing every possible thing I can. Shedding tears, shouting at the top of my lungs, dramatizing in every way possible, giving out all the love I could, laying the sultry nest, masking myself, being quiet as at a funeral, behaving like a child nearby, applying all the best of the ointments, giving away all that I posses, taking care like a friend. Huh. But once I'm done. I'm D.o.n.e. I don't even look back again to see if the other soul is still in pain, or happy at heart because I left.
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