Even if I should never know it, for what it means, for all that it represents, for all the symbolism it spells out, the infinite etchings across millions and millions of hearts, for all it takes and never returns. Even if it would turn inside out from its abstractness and show me sitting in my hands what it means to me, tangible and soft, and tender to touch - or maybe it won't, maybe it would drench the lines on my palms in blood that will seep and it pains and runs through the veins in my arms to settle in the cusp of my heart. Even if all that happens - I would still take. And hold on to that promise that is a sole purpose to many.
A promise. A hope. A truth. A feeling. Love.
A promise. A hope. A truth. A feeling. Love.
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