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Weight of Love

No matter what, I’d never crack.

Hands lifted against the sky, I wait. Coming down, the weight of affection presses hard against my palms. Forced a knee, I fight. I struggle, my push back desperate against her feelings—emotions to which I refuse to yield.

Walking, the girl’s fingers keep to her pockets. Moss green and brown, the color of her uniform dances, swaying slightly in the desert breeze. Head down, she awaits my reply.

Something, say something… I think, but nothing comes. Thus she remains, a step ahead, forever pacing in the hallway of my mind.

Strong is my memory as vivid as the sun. Such details are clear, sharp scents, and perfect clarity in sound. The flush of her cheeks are rosy, mousy brown hair pinned in an updo to reveal the glitter of blue eyes. They sparkle like washed sapphire; dazzling the spirit, stunning the sky. And yet, even so, I resisted… I rejected, lambasted her firm resolve. Her innocence, so dynamic, her tenacity, set aflame. Burned from tail-end to the bane.

Thus in guilt and sorrow, I bare the weight of a heart turned hollow.

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