Weaven within your palm,

was something I gave you.

Taking my chances, you’re klutzy, it’s true.

Waiting for your words, my mind a timebomb.

You finally have the hour to speak.

I don’t like what you have to reveal.

Your palm is empty, what’s the deal?

My gift is no longer just for you, I feel weak.

To have shared with you, was a mistake.

My essence is nothing of privacy to your mind.

Why would you do this to me?

My trust is not something I thought you’d break.

I shared it, knowing you’d like it, and to be kind.

Now I realize, separation from you would be key.