Like the gentle pressure of a thumb
On a bird's wing-
It's not very cruel, but still.
When I'm nervous to the point
Of heart attack
You don't react, but instead
Absorb the blow,
Reminding me to be slow to anger.
But my heart can't take much more restrain.
I'd much rather
Unravel the chord and know
What it is you're keeping
In that slow, gentle hand.
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