I give you my heart, and you hold it. I tell you all my secrets and desires because I trust you — or I thought I did.
I was vulnerable, helpless, weak.
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Holding out my hand for you to grab, and you pulled back. Using my weakness against me, I bleed out.
Is it love I fear now? Maybe trust, or even my own emotions.
I draw back from anyone I’m near to, fearing of being misunderstood or used.
Turned around and stabbed in the chest, squeezing my heart and draining me.
