A Short Metaphor

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I refuse to let you go. The string is thin, wrapped so tightly around my hand that it hurts. It's shimmering slightly in the sunlight though. You're tugging ever so gently on your string, it must be the helium trapped by your nylon casing. You look a...

I refuse to let you go. The string is thin, wrapped so tightly around my hand that it hurts. It's shimmering slightly in the sunlight though. You're tugging ever so gently on your string, it must be the helium trapped by your nylon casing. You look adorable, all rounded and red; I'm filled with affection for you.

   You're straining to get away, but I refuse to let you go. My hand is stinging, a thin line indented into its skin. Determined, aren't you? I can stand the pain, it's worth it, to keep you. I won't ever let go of you. 

   And I didn't, but you still left. Floating slowly away into the sky, gradually rising higher and higher. You look so much smaller now, innocent. I hope you'll be happy. I'm still holding on — tightly- but it doesn't hurt anymore. There's no force, nothing....

   Just a string without its balloon. 

 

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