He holds my very existence in the palm of his hand, And I try to snatch it back when he isn't looking. But he's got a death-like grip and my strength is so little- He would crush my fingers if I tried to grab it back; He loves me.
Reason for writing:
Must have had too much to drink and inevitably must have done some soul searching. Guess I didn't like what I found, huh?
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Cilla, Aries.