It is that moment. The moment when your childhood canvas is ripped down the middle to reveal the ugly, cruel, and harsh adult world. You have no choice but to continue forward. The not-quite-child-not-quite-adult amnesia traps you.
It is in that moment, I wish for you. My frigid and trembling hand remembers the warmth of your calloused hand cradling mine. Our heads rest together, but move closer. I quiet my head on your broad chest and listen to your heart beat, beat, beat. I marvel at how I got here. We say nothing. Close your eyes. Reminisce on Childhood for child could never do this.
Be it still, the strength of your hands cannot and did not mend anything.
Closer.
But you say this is wrong.
Closer.
The pain, with sudden jolt, had been glazed over your eyes the whole time.
If you just expect people to let you down... Don't ask for help... ... Don't ask for them to hold your hand or heart..Realize they are in it for them...Then if they do prove themselves,

Well, a special annuity you have found.
Don't expect it to last.
Ha.