The falling part is easy.

Wind blowing through your hair;
strands flying in and out of your mouth,
knots forming too--
but that doesn't matter in this moment.

You're in a completely different dimension:
liberated and empowered,
your love can conquer all,
the sky is the limit!

(how ironic that you think this,
when in actuality you are
rapidly moving farther and farther
from the limitless sky.)

But you've got to hit the ground eventually.

You land with a single THUD--
pain coursing through your back,
the bloodstream; your whole body is throbbing
dun dun, dun dun, dun dun

Your pupils are fully dilated,
mouth frozen in a perfect "o"
trying to figure out how on earth
you plan on recovering from this fall.

The falling part is easy,
but you've got to hit the ground eventually.
The real test of character
is picking yourself up afterwards.

We were just two planets
that happened to fall into the same orbit.
God, it sounds so cliché when I say it like that,
but that's what we were--

I was a small and cocky freshman
much like Pluto; all high and mighty
with its long-lasting title of "planet"
when really it's just a dwarf

You were two years older:
seasoned, hardened, experienced;
no one needed a telescope for you
because your presence was that large

We were never supposed to be friends.
But I entered your atmosphere
while your entered mine,
and nothing was the same

But as quickly as we collided,
our orbits changed,
causing us to hurtle through space
in completely different directions

I'm a painter here--
my pencil's the paintbrush,
the paper my canvas.

Happy, sad, good, bad:
I control every part of you
once my thoughts come to life.

Lately I've spent too much time
emphasizing the dark in your portraits,
turning you into some monster.

But you're not pure evil;
I must've lost my pastels--
can't seem to paint you in a lighter way.

How can I call myself a painter
when my most recent works have been
****** up optical illusions instead?

Why are roses the

symbol of lasting love when

they die so quickly?

I'm not sure what's worse:

That I was once your first choice

Or that now I'm not

I'm trying to get clean of you
But it's hard quitting cold turkey

Hands sh-sh-shaking
Pupils                   darting uncontrollably

Legs stomping. Zombielike. I pause
Every so often. To keep myself in check

Thoughtsracingamileaminute
Somehowtheyalwaysfindawaybackto--

N­o.
I can't take it anymore

I open my mouth,
No longer caring if I put your name between my lips

It rolls off my ******* single exhale
I savor the forbidden sweetness of each syllable

As quick as it entered my throat,
Your name's already vanished into thin air

With it goes my peace of mind,
The withdrawal setting back in

It's never fun needing someone
Way more than they need you