Death Proposel
My hair flying in the wind
My face is hit by the soft rain
I wait by the bridge
He's supposed to be here
Here he comes
His face shows his nervousness
He reaches into his pocket
A box
A ring
I say yes
I jump into his arms
He spins
I kiss his wet lips
My hair is soaked
The rain is coming down harder
A car swerves
It misses me by inches
I hold my face in my hands
Underneath the stars
Lies a dead body
poem by Cheyenne Joyner
Added by Poetry Lover
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