Clasp. How peculiar. That’s the stronghold you have over my life, you annoying twit. Your constant whining has me in a clasp. I wish to never see your ugly face again, but I suppose that would make me the loony monster once more, wouldn’t it?
I feel the days passing though my grasp. Excuse the rhyme but every time I try to clasp down on it there seems to be more to stop wasting than there was before. Why do I waste my days? I tell people “oh I work all day than I don’t want to do anything else” But is that really a good excuse? I don’t know….all I know is that my grasp on what i want is not clear.
I decided to clasp everything within reach, because I am really afraid of letting go, of being left all alone, of having nothing to rely on. This is a desperate solution, but it has worked so far for me. I need assurance and reassurance. Constantly.
I clasp your hand, knowing that it will only be a moment and you’ll be gone. Even as I intertwine our fingers I sense you drifting. Holding on isn’t enough.
I remember standing in my bedroom, the floors polished to a high shine. I was wearing that awesome purple black skirt that fit so perfectly and fell just right (unusual since I’m short). And my favorite black top that made my boobs look amazing. I couldn’t clasp my watch but he did it for me and I felt like such a grown up. Even if I’m not, never will be at this rate. But at that moment in time I really did feel like one.
You clasp my hands. And we dance in the moonlight thinking this moment will never end. Now I clasp our photo from that night. Not ready to face the end of this era, which is us. Our glory is ending. I clasp, not wishing to relinquish my control. Our love, our life. Is it really over? So this is what you want? I clasp my own hands, wringing them as I grab more kleenex.
the clasp of the pearl necklace was encrusted with diamonds. It looked like an Old World piece found at the bottom of your grandmother’s trunk. She gingerly tried it on and looked in the mirror . . .
the clasp had come loose on her favorite necklace. and for some reason, this was what made her cry. not the fact that she had made a terrible decision three nights prior. she gasped for air and realized tears were ridiculous. tears don’t fix things. actions do. and with that in mind, she opened the car door, and started the treacherous climb to the house for what what would be the last time.
hands together a mermaid in silver the door beckons open it unlatch the clasp what is on the other side clasp your kin close to you and don’t let them go ever…
Kean clasped the blanket to his chest, the fabric twisting like a toothless old man’s cheeks. He could feel the cold in his joints and the strength in his muscles in spite of it.
As I clasped the end of my bed I screamed out and shouted. The beast was there readying it’s leap. Where had it come from? Surely it wasn’t from the book?
I clasped his hands. Not thinking that I really did it. A blush crept on my face and I turned my head a little to his direction. His face was turned the other way so I coudn’t see his face clearly. Can it be that he’s blushing too?
She clasped his hand and said in a low breath, “I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He smiled as he lay there, writhing in agony.
He knew his time was coming to an end on this earth. He would no longer be with her. With a final breath he looked at her and said, “I’ll see you soon. I love you.” He closed his eyes, and was finally at peace.
A single solitary grip. As the hands tighten the object becomes closer. Closer and closer almost until it’s part of you. One can be, and one can stop, but one’s clasp cannot be broken.
Clasp. How peculiar. That’s the stronghold you have over my life, you annoying twit. Your constant whining has me in a clasp. I wish to never see your ugly face again, but I suppose that would make me the loony monster once more, wouldn’t it?
I feel the days passing though my grasp. Excuse the rhyme but every time I try to clasp down on it there seems to be more to stop wasting than there was before. Why do I waste my days? I tell people “oh I work all day than I don’t want to do anything else” But is that really a good excuse? I don’t know….all I know is that my grasp on what i want is not clear.
What is the sound of one hand clasping ?
What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
i think of great expectations when pip goes into mrs. havisham’s room. it seems as if the whole building clasps you in and you cannot escape.
I decided to clasp everything within reach, because I am really afraid of letting go, of being left all alone, of having nothing to rely on. This is a desperate solution, but it has worked so far for me. I need assurance and reassurance. Constantly.
I clasp your hand, knowing that it will only be a moment and you’ll be gone. Even as I intertwine our fingers I sense you drifting. Holding on isn’t enough.
i clasped her hands in mine.
twenty fingers
echoing our age
only for a moment
before the new year
our new lives begin
I remember standing in my bedroom, the floors polished to a high shine. I was wearing that awesome purple black skirt that fit so perfectly and fell just right (unusual since I’m short). And my favorite black top that made my boobs look amazing. I couldn’t clasp my watch but he did it for me and I felt like such a grown up. Even if I’m not, never will be at this rate. But at that moment in time I really did feel like one.
They clasp their weird and shadowy hands,
As they listen each to each,
But never a mortal understands
Their strange immortal speech.
You clasp my hands. And we dance in the moonlight thinking this moment will never end. Now I clasp our photo from that night. Not ready to face the end of this era, which is us. Our glory is ending. I clasp, not wishing to relinquish my control. Our love, our life. Is it really over? So this is what you want? I clasp my own hands, wringing them as I grab more kleenex.
cosmetics,perfume,bungle,hear rings
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the clasp of the pearl necklace was encrusted with diamonds. It looked like an Old World piece found at the bottom of your grandmother’s trunk. She gingerly tried it on and looked in the mirror . . .
Clasp, clasp, it’s the stupid thing again. I don’t know I am able to clasp someone, firstly because I am not sure what I fell about Joey.
the clasp had come loose on her favorite necklace. and for some reason, this was what made her cry. not the fact that she had made a terrible decision three nights prior. she gasped for air and realized tears were ridiculous. tears don’t fix things. actions do. and with that in mind, she opened the car door, and started the treacherous climb to the house for what what would be the last time.
there I was with my hand clasp in deep agony, why oh why did I do what I did? damn…
may you understand what I have been and gone thru”…
hands together a mermaid in silver the door beckons open it unlatch the clasp what is on the other side clasp your kin close to you and don’t let them go ever…
Kean clasped the blanket to his chest, the fabric twisting like a toothless old man’s cheeks. He could feel the cold in his joints and the strength in his muscles in spite of it.
As I clasped the end of my bed I screamed out and shouted. The beast was there readying it’s leap. Where had it come from? Surely it wasn’t from the book?
The clasp was just so tight,he could not open it despite his cavernous desire.
I clasped his hands. Not thinking that I really did it. A blush crept on my face and I turned my head a little to his direction. His face was turned the other way so I coudn’t see his face clearly. Can it be that he’s blushing too?
grab
take
taking the opportunity
create
understand
cheer
take what is needed
accept
The clasp on jewelry was designed to be enforced by two people instead of one.
She clasped his hand and said in a low breath, “I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He smiled as he lay there, writhing in agony.
He knew his time was coming to an end on this earth. He would no longer be with her. With a final breath he looked at her and said, “I’ll see you soon. I love you.” He closed his eyes, and was finally at peace.
A single solitary grip. As the hands tighten the object becomes closer. Closer and closer almost until it’s part of you. One can be, and one can stop, but one’s clasp cannot be broken.