Heights.
I used to be scared of heights, Tarver.
But when I'm with you,
I happen not to be.
I must have gotten used to your presence—
it lifts me up to the skies.
It must have been the meaning of safeness,
   security
     precisely defined in your arms.
It must have been our hands,
perfectly clasped like two human hearts stitched by a destructive surgeon.
Fingers that walked with me
in the zenith of all mountains
the cliff by the streets
the bay walk's beam
and every single ledge we wandered on,
where you
didn't
hold aback
to watch me fall.
So Tarver, I didn't fall for you.
It seems like you were the one
who did that for me.