On The Count Of Three

So here we stand holding hand in hand,

Glazing over the cliff that feels more like a mountain.

The grip is tight and palms are sweaty,

Silence fills the air with no sign to make us ready.

Mind spinning making everything unravel,

Bare feet; callusing soles on the chopped up gravel.

Heart racing within the finger tips there is a pulse,

Collaborating in time more rhythmically with every dose.

Soon motion begins to seem effortless,

Wind picking up; along with it stealing our last breath.

Sounds are beginning to evaporate with every passing whirl,

The grip begins to loosen and thoughts begin to twirl.

Eyes no longer on the edge rather face to face,

Heartbeats now beating in the chest start to race.

Here, it’s come down to the human instincts;

Where the stomach, heart, and mind really begin to think.

Right then the lips begin to part and sing out the words one…

Two….

Three….

Downwards goes the heart and the ground is no longer beneath.

It’s not like falling however its best described as soaring,

Oblivious to the world that continues to be roaring.

There is no greater sensation that can describe this fulfillment of bliss,

Except for the moment when words begin to leave the lips.