If your hand could reach inside my heart, what would you do with it?

Would you try to see if your touch could feel it skipping a beat?

Would you pull my heartstrings even tighter and tell me how you miss me?

Would you tell me to be quiet?

Would you hold my heartstrings like a madman whose piano needs tuning?

Would you insist on your voice being the last melodious thing I hear? Would you rather that be the last thing I hear?

Would you tell me I don’t belong to anyone?

Would you then tell me more about this future alone you see for me?

Would you go on to tell me I’m crazy?

Would you even notice that I’m a changed person now?

Would you rather gush over the years we’ve been talking to each for?

Would you tell me how I’m just as ugly as I once saw myself?

Would you like me to be scared?

Would you wonder why life has put us right there but so far away?

Would you pull my heartstrings with piano wire and make symphonies to my pain?

Would you like be hide my eyes while I do feel this?

Would rather see the tears?

Would talk about the walking watermelons and that wealthy photographer and her poorly planned heist?

Would you like me to show my eyes than? Would you than pull out the piano wire?