If your hand could reach inside my heart,

What would you do with it?

Would you end my life with a measly squeeze,

Or to poke it, ticklish it laughs with glee?

Would your face turn sour,

At whatever my beating heart desires?

It's not as innocent as I try to make it seem,

Just a little broken, like a ragged doll with endless seams.

It matters not what you do with your hand on my chest;

Because it's you, the only person who knows me more than the rest.

Even if you break it, I wont shed tears of anger; It's a pleasure for your hand to touch my heart in slumber.