I tighten my grip around your hand,
Even harder.
Blood rushes to your palm, red.
You smile and say,
'I am going nowhere, love.'
How can I free you from my arms now,
Do you have the slightest clue?
I counted all the stars,
Whilst waiting for you.
YOU ARE READING
Sparks in the Dark
PoesíaSome words mingled and intertwined to what we call poetry. Highest Rank: #4 in Poetry (no intention of further continuation)
