Siyona.S.stay

If I hand you my heart

My heart made of glass

Don't shatter it

Don't have the shards

Splay across the ground

Don't hand it to someone else

To crush it

Beneath their fingers

But if it does

I dragged my feet through the untouched snow. It seemed to be falling faster and faster. My camera hung from my neck  and bobbed up and down as I walked. My sneakers were soggy but I kept walking on.

There is a man on the corner of 87th and Amsterdam. I do not know him, and he does not know me. He wears a red T-shirt with red sweatpants. He wears a red coat with red shoes. He wears a red ski mask on his face.