I need you, to hold my hands. Both of them, tight, at a time like this. Because I'm scared. Scared that my skin will slowly cave in, sink, and merge with my thick thick blood. So that in the end there will only be a mess. Me a heap on the floor.
And this is why I need you now, to hold my hands. Both my hands. Tight. Don't let go.

Nyc 12.8.13