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Traveler Sep 30
And there I was hanging
Eternity beneath my feet
One handed white knuckle
One tight grip on reality

And so I wonder where
My strength comes from
And who will catch me
When I lose my grip

I never knew I could fly.
Traveler Tim
Haley Jul 11
I grip your hand as I cling on for dear life,
Our life has just begun,
But it’s time to wake up.

I cling onto you as I feel your invisible breath on my neck,
I’m trying to get the most of you,
But my breathing is getting heavier.

I finally open my eyes,
Just wishing you were truly there,
Right next to me.
~ I've started writing more short stories and less poems, sorry! I just got my new computer so I'll try to get more poems up!
Grey May 28
As sleep overcomes me,
my unsteady hands loosen their grip on the locket
and it slides through my fingers
and falls to the ground.
lost the last promise I gripped, slipping, the losses now fixed

homeless, nameless, tragicomic living past the place where scavenging doesn’t last.

ready supply of wretchedness unlimited, shopping cart full of your discards skimmed.

no more we say that evil Oh God, words over exercised, gone, excised, fk-you-exorcised.

lost the remaining of the last promise gripped, the losses are ice in July, fixed.

my suburban brain, burned, the volunteer firemen failed to care, appear.

put my past you, you, exhibited the lesser lesson, the faun ceased dancing.

my cunning can’t be higher’d, hired, arm won’t raise/rise over the wind head.

where the bloodlines went, just veins who purposely are no deafened,  dumb, silenced.

no depth, no plumb line necessary, for measuring the deep, the last pairing.

ditched the muse, the witch *****, who offers tantalizing sweets, poison too, nicely spoiled.
Ingram Feb 12
The space between us
is substantially bigger,
and your tight grip  
is no longer pinned to my emotional trigger.

You knew that in the past
I would have jumped off a ledge for you,
but now I am strong enough
to say ***** you, too.
Harley Hucof Oct 2019
" He is losing his grip "
- Oh!! Is there a grip now? No body said anything about a grip.

           Words Of Harfouchism.
What grip?
LC Sep 2019
sadness grips my neck in a choke-hold
its hands cold and rough to the point in which
I don't know if I can escape with life left in me.
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