A Hand that Holds the Heart

I place a hand over my heart.

Its rhythm is steady, but uncertain.

It no longer wants to race.

~:+:~

Whenever I see you, it thumps nonchalantly, because you don't matter to it anymore.

Whenever I see you laugh, it refuses to become light, to soar, because the laugh and its charm died ages ago.

Whenever I see you talking (no, flirting!) to another girl, it seems slightly heavier, but not heavy enough to drop and form a hole.

Whenever I sense your presence nearby, it quickens the slightest bit, but it's stubborn enough to keep quiet.

Whenever I feel your eyes on me, it forces me to turn, and glare at you with the full intensity of that (painful, painful) fire that still resides somewhere within. It wants to see if you can take it. When you flinch, it takes pride and delight to a whole new level.

So, why is it that, as I glare at you now, you return it with a gaze? Did you somehow become stronger, more durable? I can definitely see that something in your eyes is different. Longing? Loneliness? Pain? A dream for a second chance? A wish that everything was as it was?

…

Love?

It is then that I realize that these are my emotions. The emotions that my poor, ill heart has had to bear all this time, hidden underneath a thick layer of denial and unshed tears. Only now, your simple gaze is stripping it apart. It tries not to show it, but I can feel it swelling, ready to explode at any given second. A shock (or shiver, I'm not sure) surges throughout my whole body, and I can't take it. I collapse.

You take a step, but my heart is still haughty, I'm afraid, and it repels you. Yet you still come forward, pushing through all that hate and disdain in order to save me. Please, help me, I need you to save me, my eyes want to say. Maybe yours receives the message, because all of a sudden, your arms are around me, I'm sobbing into you, and my heart is mending. After it's done, I can feel it swelling again, but this time, it's real and truly full with something else. Relief. Or maybe even happiness.

Then, when you explain everything, my heart brims again, for a second time. I can at last feel it flooding over and threatening to sweep me away. But your arms are still there, secure and warm and everything I ever needed.

Our hearts are at last beating in sync.

You explain that you pushed me away because your heart was dealing with the same problems as mine. You just needed time. But I feel so pitifully guilty now because I realize that I never gave you it. You say that the first glare I sent to you shattered your heart. The irony is that the very person who would be able to make it full was the same one who was ripping it apart.

You told me that you knew from that moment that you were on your own. I wanted to tell you that you are indeed an idiot, that I could never bring myself to leave you. However, your eyes silenced me. You continued on that your heart was so disappointed and hurt that it got drunk. It lusted so much that your hormones kicked in, and that was why you always had girls surrounding you, swooning over you. The thought caused my stomach to lurch.

But when you said you only saw me and that none of them mattered, I melted. I was floating on cloud nine and swimming in the land of milk and honey.

And there was that smile that you sent to me. That smile that made my heart flutter and saw butterflies. The smile that was your own, the one that no one could pull off so perfectly like you. It seemed to say, "You're mine."

Is this how you get girls to fall in love with (or practically obsess over) you? I...I thought I might be more stronger than them. I was wrong, then. Wait-

A tear...?

Is this mine? ...No. It is... yours.

You whisper that I have to believe you.

Why?

I have trusted you from the very start.