deepundergroundpoetry.com
Friction
Reaching out and clasping
the end of your rope.
Not enough to hang myself
but just enough to hold on
for dear life. Your grip is
slipping, your hands beaded
in sweat, your eyes hold tears
in self-indulgent mourning
should you choose to let go.
the end of your rope.
Not enough to hang myself
but just enough to hold on
for dear life. Your grip is
slipping, your hands beaded
in sweat, your eyes hold tears
in self-indulgent mourning
should you choose to let go.
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