This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Augustana chapter.
Grip
Even if you decide
To loosen your grip
On my delicate fingertips
I refuse to let myself sway
With the uncertainty
Or tear at the seams
Until I slowly unravel
Because losing your grip
Does not mean
That I will lose mine
And this is how I know
I will be okay
Stars
Fingers reaching for a cloud
They tell us to aim for the stars
Hands drenched in a cool mist
We claw away at nothing
Desperation breaks the stillness
We will never touch the stars
When we can’t even grip the sky
By its baby blue cloth
And pull it over our bodies
A wet security blanket