My mother told me not to fall so hard, so fast;
but doesn’t she know I don’t know how to love in halves?
“It’s just that things can change so quick.”
Not a reminder,
but a warning;
you know something I don’t, yet.
Please, someone tell me what it feels like to fall and it not hurt;
there must be a way to do it so that you don’t hit the bottom hard, but land flat on your feet instead.
Someone lead me to the heart that knows how to stay and how to keep.
My spine breaks beneath the word.
Does it mean to never leave,
or to take me with you?
I will see you when I see you, on Sunday afternoons or Friday nights that turn into Saturday mornings at 1a.m.
We will dance around the inevitable with nonchalance,
and love each others hearts without feeling.
As I stand at the edge of the cliff with you, staring out and down into the abyss of love, I think of Jack from the Titanic.
I’ll jump if you jump.
Now my eyes, well they are staring at your feet.
Until then, I will wait,
basking in how close I get to stand next to you;
Waiting for the part of “stay” where you take me with you.
Like the song you showed me,
I wanna know:
Are you feeling trapped?
Or is it a choice?
Because I choose to be trapped with you in this long, slow fall.