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Your hands and my beating female heart

I have a thing for hands and hearts as you can now tell but bear with me this time

It was as if you were fascinated by how much I can give no matter how less you do. You tested the limits of how long my ripped heart would beat in your hands until it stopped. It bled for quite a long time not realizing or rather, not caring if it was pumped with love.

I’m a seed you grew at first then found out a cactus can live long without being watered. I continued giving you flowers while you stood there with a bucket of water too greedy to have me nourished.

I kept beating on your hands furiously I almost collapsed. Almost died for you. Sometimes, my withered heart beat so slow it could barely be felt.

What I’m trying to say is; I continued bleeding long after my heart ripped out of my chest. I continued bleeding for your love. For whatever love you showed me at first but neglected later on. I bled and bled and wasted away for a long while until I realized that I have loved you more than I loved myself. More than the body I left.

But it was everything you never deserved.

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