Hang On

He was hanging off a bridge…

Hey again! I believe I’ve successfully broken through my writer’s block! Tonight’s a double feature with another free verse poem that’s straight from the heart. Hope you enjoy!

The first time I saw him,
he was hanging off a bridge.
I rushed over and bent down,
reaching out to grab his hand.
His long fingers interlocked with mine,
and for a brief moment,
all was okay.
All was ecstasy.

Then, his fingers started slipping,
s l o w l y,
but surely.
I strained frantically,
sobbing and screaming simultaneously,
trying to maintain some hold on him —
And all the while,
he kept slackly slipping
further and further out of my grasp.

An eon later,
an eon of mind-numbing pain later,
the connection was severed;
And as I watched him fall away,
vision barred with gemlike teardrops,
it dawned on me:

He had never attempted to hang on.

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Hang On