Hold Me
I’m balancing on a knife’s-edge.
I’ve learned this art—don’t breathe, don’t move,
Like marble, still, I stay in place,
Careful not to bruise
The trembling strings inside your chest—
I’m standing at the edge of a blade.
Hold onto me. Don’t let go,
Even though your hand starts feeling numb.
Hold onto me. Hold on tighter.
Don’t let these wings unfold
Let the blade’s edge cut me deeper—still,
Just don’t let me lose my way.
I live in parallel dreams.
How did I drift off this far?
My voice grows quieter calling you—
Please… don’t be too late.
Hold me
© Copyright: Алена Летняя, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126010909347
Свидетельство о публикации №126010909347
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