my mother makes jewelry by hand. her necklaces each have beautiful, unique and ornate clasps. you can hide them in the back, or show them up front, like another jewel.
necklace, bracelet, nothing more to say!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
to clasp something is a bit weird. or like there’s the clasp on a bracelet. this one time i got a real nice bracelet off my dad and he had a flimsy clasp on it and it kept breaking so we sent it to the middle east to get it fixed but he forgot to fix it so it’s just sitting in the middle east which is a bit strange. sigh today is a long day i also have a watch which is in need of a clasp, holy moley! hmm, i also like to clasp things close to my heart <3
my hands am i scared or is it an idiosyncratic thing? gesticulating too much can make you look eratic or nervous as well as dominating and confident. perhaps i need to slow my roll eh. gyal!
the minister clasped her handed together to pray in be name of Jesus, but you and I both knew that it was a bit too late for that, because we’re no fools, and everybody in the chapel had sinned time and time again.
clasp the hand of the person next to you and do not let go until further instructions. Don’t worry, we’ll be in constant contact with you throughout the procedure
I clasped the bar.
“hey dude, that really hurts. Why are you crutching me?”
“What?!? Did you talk?”
“Yeah I talked! What you gunna do about it?”
The bar proceded to slap me.
Her fingers reached desperately for the ledge.
“I didn’t want this!” she shouted the the girl standing above her, watching and silently crying.
“Yes you did.” She closed her eyes and stepped on the girl’s fingers, destroying her grip.
Clasp my hand and don’t let me fall. Don’t let me hurt myself. Don’t let me hurt others. Don’t let me do what he did to me. I am asking for your help. I never do. So, please, answer my call. Don’t let me fall.
my hands want to clasp yours so badly as you of course im me right as i click this fucking box and start to write all i ever see if people holding each other all around me and all i’ve wanted is to hold you when you don’t want to hold me. it’s not fair and i don’t understand why we can’t just be together, but i realize that i’m being selfish in thinking this. if i can’t have what i want, that’s fine, but i just really really hope that someday i will.
The clasp on her watch had just broken. But what did she care, the boat was sinking. Her dog had already stolen the last lifeboat and she was beginning to sink into the very depths of the underworld. Just an average Tuesday…
i clapsed my hand around the gauntlet and i claped hard as if i claped the shaft of my spear for i was a roman soldier and i served no one only myself, oct
he finally did it. he clasped my hand, fingers intertwined, we walked down main street like that. and all of a sudden everything got brighter. the sky was bluer, the sun warmer, the flowers prettier. it was like i was floating.
i don’t really know what to say except i guess they’re pretty useful if you think about it. i guess they’re kind of essential to keeping clothes on too. unless you don’t like keeping your clothes on…then i guess they’re not that essential.
hands clasped together, tying together two souls, two hearts, body and mind, forever. the clasp is only ruptured when one feels the need to let go, otherwise they are there together for all of eternity, even if not physically, but mentally and psychologically
holds things together, i guess the word is pretty outdated, or perhaps eroticised due to being on bras? idk. also used like when shaking hands, expressing warmth i guess. i might use this word more. having thought about it i quite like it and now it looks weird cos ive looked at it too much an d my time is running out.
As he clasped the back of by red dress I could feel his breath against the nape of my neck. This wonderous thought which is not necissarily defined as ‘love’. It is only an uplifting feeling that I am thinking something at all. No woman could possibly feel numb while wearing a passionate red dress.
clutching at the nape of my neck, pearls feel like they’re not even there. i can sense the fish hooks, though, interlaced and keeping it all together effortlessly. i’m in charge of my friends like this clasp is of my necklace. it’s a lot, but i love it and i have to.
Holding hands…my dad always said that there may have been smarter women than my mom, prettier women than my mom, and funnier women than my mom, but absolutely no one held hands better than my mom.
clasping hands we ran through the city. we nkew that no one else would believes us if we told them. so we continued on, running, not paynig attention to anyone. and then we arrived. we had reached our destination: it was warm, the sun shining on our faces, the breeze gently dancing about our bodies.
He opended the door and walked towards the counter. He spoke to the man standing on the other side ready to do as he is commanded, ” can i get a tall latte with skim milk”
the summer air is gone, as is the carefree days spent breaking laws and skinny dipping. i wish constantly that those days could be clasped in my hands, ready to be relived at a moment’s notice. perhaps more claspable memories shall be made, but none as special as those.
Clasp, the hands reach out and grab at the night air. Again and again the smack of the hands. Reaching, grabbing, trying. Smack the hands clasp lazily,
As I clasped the last piece of fruit on earth in my hand I dangled over a large canyon of garbage. I grabbed the fruit so I could enjoy it while I fall to my garbagey death. Apocolypse is lovely is it not?
clasp my hands, clasp my lips. I want so badly to trace your hips. Give your your heart, even though mine is already taken. I’m sorry that the road is mistaken. I’m sorry that my heart decided this. I’m sorry I’m in love with one and infatuated with another. You’ve got my attention, do I have yours? I know this is wrong, but I can’t shut the door.
Clasp. C-L-A-S-P, One of those words that somehow leaves a taste in the mouth when you pronounce it, and the more you sound it out the weirder it seems. I’m just glad I’m not in the habit of wearing necklaces.
I found it one day at the bottom of a box in the back room of a local thrift store. The clasp on the purse was of an antique nature, made of brass and slightly worn. One simply had to pry the two prongs apart to open up the depths of the scary interior of the bag. Since this purse is likely 50 or more years old, I have to wonder how many women have used that clasp and under how many different circumstances. What a varied life that clasp has most likely led….if only it could speak, I’m sure that there would be many wonderful stories of where that clasp had been and what it has done, as well as all of the diffrerent places it has spent time at or put away at. And to think of all the items that clasp has let in and out of that bag! Who knows? Maybe it’s even been to that popular gameshow where people had to have all manner of things inside in order to win money. It’s surely been a poor clasp as well as at times a rich clasp, spanning the social classes, at least in the owner’s mind. But for me, that simple clasp with the dull patina has been a goldmine of interesting, varied, and sometimes wild thoughts and musings.
my mother makes jewelry by hand. her necklaces each have beautiful, unique and ornate clasps. you can hide them in the back, or show them up front, like another jewel.
that little child of mine
will clasp my hand
forever
necklace, bracelet, nothing more to say!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Grabs me and turns the power within, unleashing the force behind all that is good. I feel the power, I know the power, I sense the power of the clasp.
to clasp something is a bit weird. or like there’s the clasp on a bracelet. this one time i got a real nice bracelet off my dad and he had a flimsy clasp on it and it kept breaking so we sent it to the middle east to get it fixed but he forgot to fix it so it’s just sitting in the middle east which is a bit strange. sigh today is a long day i also have a watch which is in need of a clasp, holy moley! hmm, i also like to clasp things close to my heart <3
my hands am i scared or is it an idiosyncratic thing? gesticulating too much can make you look eratic or nervous as well as dominating and confident. perhaps i need to slow my roll eh. gyal!
the minister clasped her handed together to pray in be name of Jesus, but you and I both knew that it was a bit too late for that, because we’re no fools, and everybody in the chapel had sinned time and time again.
clasp the hand of the person next to you and do not let go until further instructions. Don’t worry, we’ll be in constant contact with you throughout the procedure
a clasp holds things together. most people wish they had the power to do this. how an inanimate object can perfrom tasks that humans wish they could…
I clasped the bar.
“hey dude, that really hurts. Why are you crutching me?”
“What?!? Did you talk?”
“Yeah I talked! What you gunna do about it?”
The bar proceded to slap me.
Her fingers reached desperately for the ledge.
“I didn’t want this!” she shouted the the girl standing above her, watching and silently crying.
“Yes you did.” She closed her eyes and stepped on the girl’s fingers, destroying her grip.
SPLASH.
Clasp my hand and don’t let me fall. Don’t let me hurt myself. Don’t let me hurt others. Don’t let me do what he did to me. I am asking for your help. I never do. So, please, answer my call. Don’t let me fall.
“You sure about this?” I asked as we neared earth, my fingers refusing to stop fiddling with the clasp of my necklace.
my hands want to clasp yours so badly as you of course im me right as i click this fucking box and start to write all i ever see if people holding each other all around me and all i’ve wanted is to hold you when you don’t want to hold me. it’s not fair and i don’t understand why we can’t just be together, but i realize that i’m being selfish in thinking this. if i can’t have what i want, that’s fine, but i just really really hope that someday i will.
A large group of children with speech impediments.
The clasp on her watch had just broken. But what did she care, the boat was sinking. Her dog had already stolen the last lifeboat and she was beginning to sink into the very depths of the underworld. Just an average Tuesday…
i clapsed my hand around the gauntlet and i claped hard as if i claped the shaft of my spear for i was a roman soldier and i served no one only myself, oct
clasp my hands? a locket? clasp my hands. yes. oh dear oh dear i’m not quite sure what else to say.
he finally did it. he clasped my hand, fingers intertwined, we walked down main street like that. and all of a sudden everything got brighter. the sky was bluer, the sun warmer, the flowers prettier. it was like i was floating.
i don’t really know what to say except i guess they’re pretty useful if you think about it. i guess they’re kind of essential to keeping clothes on too. unless you don’t like keeping your clothes on…then i guess they’re not that essential.
hands clasped together, tying together two souls, two hearts, body and mind, forever. the clasp is only ruptured when one feels the need to let go, otherwise they are there together for all of eternity, even if not physically, but mentally and psychologically
holds things together, i guess the word is pretty outdated, or perhaps eroticised due to being on bras? idk. also used like when shaking hands, expressing warmth i guess. i might use this word more. having thought about it i quite like it and now it looks weird cos ive looked at it too much an d my time is running out.
As he clasped the back of by red dress I could feel his breath against the nape of my neck. This wonderous thought which is not necissarily defined as ‘love’. It is only an uplifting feeling that I am thinking something at all. No woman could possibly feel numb while wearing a passionate red dress.
clutching at the nape of my neck, pearls feel like they’re not even there. i can sense the fish hooks, though, interlaced and keeping it all together effortlessly. i’m in charge of my friends like this clasp is of my necklace. it’s a lot, but i love it and i have to.
Holding hands…my dad always said that there may have been smarter women than my mom, prettier women than my mom, and funnier women than my mom, but absolutely no one held hands better than my mom.
clasping hands we ran through the city. we nkew that no one else would believes us if we told them. so we continued on, running, not paynig attention to anyone. and then we arrived. we had reached our destination: it was warm, the sun shining on our faces, the breeze gently dancing about our bodies.
He opended the door and walked towards the counter. He spoke to the man standing on the other side ready to do as he is commanded, ” can i get a tall latte with skim milk”
i looked at him, my knight, and smiled.
the summer air is gone, as is the carefree days spent breaking laws and skinny dipping. i wish constantly that those days could be clasped in my hands, ready to be relived at a moment’s notice. perhaps more claspable memories shall be made, but none as special as those.
What is it, this clasp.
clasp the moment to your heart for you may never get to experience this moment again
Clasp, the hands reach out and grab at the night air. Again and again the smack of the hands. Reaching, grabbing, trying. Smack the hands clasp lazily,
As I clasped the last piece of fruit on earth in my hand I dangled over a large canyon of garbage. I grabbed the fruit so I could enjoy it while I fall to my garbagey death. Apocolypse is lovely is it not?
tightly gripping something, as if you dont want to ever have to let go
you might clasp someone’s hand, in a gesture that you mean to be everlasting.
A clasp is a helpful item that
lets clasp hands you and I
maybe well find hope in your eyes
Cause you no you wont find it in mine
maybe you’ll bring something i’ve lost
and remind me why i want to long
i don
hands clasping, they don’t want to let go, is it love that makes feel like they can never be close enough?
clasp my hands, clasp my lips. I want so badly to trace your hips. Give your your heart, even though mine is already taken. I’m sorry that the road is mistaken. I’m sorry that my heart decided this. I’m sorry I’m in love with one and infatuated with another. You’ve got my attention, do I have yours? I know this is wrong, but I can’t shut the door.
“Dammit, I can’t get this stupid clasp!”
“Come on, Kurosaki-kun, you can do it!!”
“I don’t need cheering… God, who invented these stupid things?!?”
*click*
“Finally!! Now we can resume…”
Clasp. C-L-A-S-P, One of those words that somehow leaves a taste in the mouth when you pronounce it, and the more you sound it out the weirder it seems. I’m just glad I’m not in the habit of wearing necklaces.
I found it one day at the bottom of a box in the back room of a local thrift store. The clasp on the purse was of an antique nature, made of brass and slightly worn. One simply had to pry the two prongs apart to open up the depths of the scary interior of the bag. Since this purse is likely 50 or more years old, I have to wonder how many women have used that clasp and under how many different circumstances. What a varied life that clasp has most likely led….if only it could speak, I’m sure that there would be many wonderful stories of where that clasp had been and what it has done, as well as all of the diffrerent places it has spent time at or put away at. And to think of all the items that clasp has let in and out of that bag! Who knows? Maybe it’s even been to that popular gameshow where people had to have all manner of things inside in order to win money. It’s surely been a poor clasp as well as at times a rich clasp, spanning the social classes, at least in the owner’s mind. But for me, that simple clasp with the dull patina has been a goldmine of interesting, varied, and sometimes wild thoughts and musings.