Back.
With a revenge? I don't know for certain.

When I look at her fake lenses, and similarity to me, I wonder if what's holding you back is me or her? Or both. Or that there's nothing to hold back.

It's a nagging fear. But I guess it comes from an intense intersection within me.

You reach out to grab my hand, withdraw and follow it by expressing your desire to hold my little finger.
You're making me fall. I fall because you warm my heart with you quirks, the resonating laughter as a result of your company and your yellow melodies. Because with your yellow and my peach we make sunshine.

I'm falling. You're quiet.
Put a finger to my mouth, will you?