If a delicate heart is placed within a strong grip,
It will never break.

But it is only once we see said grip released,
That we may witness how strong it was to begin with.

For those pesky shaky hands are always imitating,

What they could never be,
Just to get what they could never hold.

What happens when you’re drowning,
And everyone is telling you to get out,
But you just still want to drown?

Maybe it’s just always been my fascination with things that take my breath away,
That makes me feel alright with being submerged all the time.

But if gasping for air and drowning beneath these waves mean the chance to have even just one second of fresh air with you,

I wouldn’t mind drowning forever.