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Slipping Through....

I held her hand, firm and tight,
As if love could win this fight.
She, too, hesitated in the end,
A silent plea, a thread to mend.

But bonds aren’t kept by hands alone,
They live where hearts have softly grown.
And when a heart begins to stray,
Fingers slowly slip away.
A truth the soul must learn to weigh.

So I loosened my fragile grasp,
Let her go with fading clasp.
And as her touch withdrew from mine,
The pain was not in lost entwine
But in the emptiness left behind.

Now this hand, once hers to hold,
Closes into a fist so cold.
Perhaps, someone will hold this hand,
Yet this grasp will never unfold.



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