Poetry, the Stars; and whatever Space lies between

Stand Firm

Open palmed hold,

It was my fault;

Foolishly fold,

Sends me a jolt.

This girl that I know-

It's her turn to go:

Bullets of bronze,

Lips sealed with red,

Aims for my heart,

Recoils my head.

Holes make me shallow;

Drains my skin dry,

Blood that then follows

Spells her goodbye.