Galileo once told that two bodies that fall at exactly the same time, regardless of whatever, land at identical times, too. That regardless of how heavy or light their loads are or how dim or bright their souls are, when they fall, they fall.

Together.

And stay grounded, together.

But he dared not to tell of how two souls could ignite but still fail to heave each other’s flames.

Of how two bodies fall at the very same time,

*but never for each other.

One. Look at and not through her; lock your gaze unto hers. Swim in her core through her lenses, and set her soul on fire, then.

Two. Know and say her name. Run each letter through your lips. Savor each syllable that slithers through your knowing. Grab her hand and shake it, too.

Three. Ask for and call her number. Let each digit seep in through your memory. 0906. 7. 1. Text her, maybe, occasionally.

Four. Take her out for dinner. Maybe for lunch. Maybe for whatever. Solely just to know her better. Hold her hand. Lean in tight. Plaster your gaze each time you take a bite. Breathe. Let her breathe, and take her in your arms.

Five. Kiss her. Slowly, then softly. Devour her inner demons; taste the bile in her soul. Cover her in glitter - in candy canes, and not in anything bitter.

Six. Pull away, and let her start the chase. Call her once, then not again. Say it's love, and never again.

Seven. Let her wither away. Like an autumn leaf as winter springs. Let her soul be feeble glass; your apathy, it's undoing.

E. I. Eight. This is how you break her. this is how you **** each ounce of her; his is how she falters. Nine slits on her wrists. Ten failed attempts. Eleven in the evening. Twelve roses on her coffin. Thirteen guesses for the culprit. Fourteen times, all wrong. Fifteen was right, and XV was you.

was she never enough

that you chose to place
all ounce of your love
unto the shields of
anonymity

was she never enough

that you chose to watch her
break into fragments
while you solely watched
from
afar

was she never enough

that you dared not to take
the fall -
that you dared not
to swim in her pool of
despair; her ocean
of a being

was she never enough

or was she

enough

*not.

Younger than tomorrow;
older than today -
still having yet
to see tomorrow's ray.

A timeworn second,
a minute too new.
My bones aged, it's true;
*but my heart never would.

I loved too much
who has yet to love me.

I loved too little
the one that always did.

And I do not know
what aches more -
that I have fragments
for a heart
or that I broke
another soul?

I love you all,
the whole of you, but
a part I do more than the rest.
‘Twas your feet,
dear, find it odd,
but they stand out from the
rest.

Calloused and cracked may
they may seem,
they’re beautiful to me.
They peddled you for us to meet;
*they brought you close to me.