Hold on to my grasp, like it's your last chance,
To feel my warmth, Of my small hand,
Grasping yours,
As we swing to our deaths,
Into that bubbling pit of lava,
Burn to ashes,
As one,
That's what we wanted,
To die together,
a twisted Romeo and Juliet ending,
A love that could not be tamed,
A fire that could not be put out,
All caused by our hand grasp,
Electrifying my inner self,
And letting go.
YOU ARE READING
Eruption
Poetrypoems. [READ PLEASE] i wrote most of this in the sixth grade. just saying.
