As you slip from my grasp,
and your words become less and less,
touches nothing more than a mere graze
I realize,
I am the one slipping,
right through your hands,
like air
YOU ARE READING
Words of Midnights and Moonlit Murmurs
Poetryall my thoughts, bleeding into these pages, enjoy. a collection of poems by H.W. Elizabeth.
8. Fleeting Fingers
As you slip from my grasp,
and your words become less and less,
touches nothing more than a mere graze
I realize,
I am the one slipping,
right through your hands,
like air
