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.