Poetry
1 min
The Fall
RayOnya Dukes
RayOnya Dukes
My hands grip the wall; you stand below.
I want to feel your skin on mine,
Your lips on my forehead, and
your breath on my ear as you whisper, "I love you."
It would be so easy to let go,
But,
Would you catch me?
Apprehension weaves its tangled web through my veins
As the unknown burns my skin.
I let go.
The arms that once reached out are no longer there,
The skin that burned is now cold,
The forehead kisses no longer exist,
and the words you've said have faded away.
I laugh.
I knew the risk.
I knew the results.
And yet, I fell.
A Bronco Story. Submissions are from the Western Michigan University community.
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