Falling

We came to agreements with rope burn and blood smeared shoulders, taking turns to breathe deeply.  Arrangements made between burning lips and taste between teeth.  

We were desire made flesh and given no labels.  Getting inside of heads was part of the game - f*****g with the poor boys heart was not part of the first act.  Nor the second.  If they were to sit and write from the first instance it would be nowhere in sight.  An unexpected plot twist that should have been stamped out when the feel of your skin on mine became less like punches and more like ghostly flutters.

You tried to teach me to fall in love with stolen glances and lingering fingertips.  Whispers in dark and kisses planted on hands you pulled to face when I was half way to sleeping.  I tried to teach you to fall, in more general terms.  Out of love, perhaps.  To step over the edge and let everything go, cares and regrets touching down momentarily on the corners of your mind.

Your words crawled under skin and lingered in cells, anger drawing out from lungs.  Sentences trailed behind when I walked away, refusing to pick up broken bits and pieces.  I lost your voice over a year ago, to resurface with heartfelt laments on an anniversary of saying goodbye.

I think it’s safe to say we both failed, no matter how hard you hit the ground.