Runaway
Wednesday, December 23, 2009 12:19 PM
Out of no source of inspiration, I wrote this sometime last year. I suck at poetry now.
Would you catch me if I fall?
If I dragged you down with me,
Would it matter at all?
If I offered you a hand,
Would you take it?
Or would our grasp slip like sand?
I stare into your eyes.
No more tears,
Now, no more alibis.
Arms stretched, I stood
In the middle of the track.
Bullet train over wood.
You dash and pull me back,
Protected by your shoulders;
My face buried into your neck.
There's still so much to show.
I don't want to run away,
I don't want to let you go.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009 12:19 PM
Out of no source of inspiration, I wrote this sometime last year. I suck at poetry now.
Would you catch me if I fall?
If I dragged you down with me,
Would it matter at all?
If I offered you a hand,
Would you take it?
Or would our grasp slip like sand?
I stare into your eyes.
No more tears,
Now, no more alibis.
Arms stretched, I stood
In the middle of the track.
Bullet train over wood.
You dash and pull me back,
Protected by your shoulders;
My face buried into your neck.
There's still so much to show.
I don't want to run away,
I don't want to let you go.
Labels: Poem bugnotic