I grab for his hand, holding it close to my side. 

The unfamiliarity of the ridges in his skin sending shivers down my spine. For a short moment, it felt as if we were holding our hearts in our palms. Our beats so powerful, so strong. We walked tirelessly past the lamp posts as they gave kisses to the falling rain. 

The droplets caressing their chains. 

But walk with me. 

The rhythm of our steps flawlessly linked. Scared that if I blinked, we’d no longer be interlinked. 

Darling, it’s getting cold. 

Our goosebumps share the story told. He nods his head in agreement. 

Oh no — I hope it’s not in appeasement. 

Our feet hitting the concrete as if it’s a wonderland untold. I never thought our hands could be this cold. 

Suddenly he lets go; the only one to hold my hand was nature’s tears. 

Or maybe they were mine. 

He looked at me with eyes mixed with emotions I somehow missed. He wasn’t holding my hand anymore yet his hand was still firmly fisted. His once beating heart, now black with tar. Beating so slowly, I found it bizzare. I guess you could say he looked like a dragon, his breath fuming in the night of Manhattan. 

I seemingly took a step back. Surely we couldn’t possibly have a crack. It was then I realized, we could not be idealized. 

It’s alright my love, 

Take a walk