I wish that I had gotten an extended warranty on my body.

Who will I turn to now
when it falls apart at the seams?

Maybe if I hadn't tossed out the how-to manual...

...though I have a sneaking suspicion that it was blank,
and wasn't worth the paper it wasn't printed on, anyway.

I feel like my entire life has been about falling
(falling in love, falling to pieces, falling down stairs, etc.).

When you're teetering on something precarious, like air,
people tell you not to look down,
not to open your eyes.

But I've gone a step beyond just shutting my eyes.
I keep my hands fastened over them,
as an extra layer of protection,
because I'm afraid if my contrary nature gets the best of me
and the screws holding my hands in place loosen,
I'll give in and take a peek,
peering up instead of down,

But I won't see a suspect looming over the edge of the cliff that last saw me grounded.
And the only culprit for my plunge...
...will be me.

I asked, "Should I shave?"
You said that you didn't care.
I said, "I love you."

When you're falling,
the wind is like an accomplice
that will tell onlookers that you're only crying
because it's battering your eyes.

They say that it's in the journey
and not the destination,

but what's the difference
between gliding
or plummeting

when the end goal is the pavement just the same?

I think I'd like to pick pocket your heart,
though the jury's still out on whether or not I'm keeping the contents.

Because I'm only reaching in there to confirm that your feelings are still home,
that somewhere in that torso of yours, your heart serves as more than a ****** conduit.

But before I could even brush against you to distract you,
I saw the "For Rent" sign stapled to your chest.
And when I knocked on your rib cage to place an inquiry,
I saw the fine print that read:
"Tourniquet Not Included".

But didn't anyone tell you that if you dam up your emotions,
they'll leak out and poison your brain?
That's why they say love makes you do crazy things,
and I don't know if I can stick around until you're certifiable.

I'm afraid I'm your
origami imitant,
your paper tiger.