Let's call it brain. Nutshell. Music box. Barred door.
When the night was all black and dark, I could feel my heart slightly weathering.
[Old paper, between old leather, in an old shelf, in an old city, in an old world.]
Let's call it psychological warfare. Emotional blackmail. Love.
My hands were cold and didn't belong to me anymore. Like the little strawberry marks, scars and bruises all over my body.
[Thoughts. Memories. Body reactions. And other stuff.]
Nothing belonged to me. I was branded.
Let’s call it forceful expulsion. Surviving.
Please, stay close to me. Cut my skin and spill my blood. Make sure, that I'm never going to belong to her again. Break my bones and tell me my future. Squeeze your fingers in my flesh, until I can't turn my neck, can't open my jaw, can't cry anymore.
Stay close to me.
Don't let me go.