Falling.
they say that it’s exhilarating
like a fast car at midnight
cheeks aching from
the grin that couldn’t be held back
warm fingers laced between
the imperfections
forgotten
and yourself
found.
But
what if the car
crashes
and cheeks become tear stained
cold hands holding your own head
heavy with thought
and memories
lost and
broken.
I suppose
I’m yet to find a
fall
that seems worth all the
what if’s.