The things he does for love, he’s wont to let it walk across all forms of cusps in his thoughts. Or cross all sorts of borders in his head. He wants to overcome. This is what he’s lauded for. It won’t be what he does it for.

He finds heights frightening. Climbing. Hiking. Any altitude above sea level makes him feel unsettled. He’s fearful. He presses a hand to his chest, lets his breath settle into a better pace. Greenish shades paints his cheeks, pale in the face. A ghastly grimace. Visions. Images. Picturing himself slipping, or tripping into the ominous abyss. And even worse that she falls with him.

Frivolous lips kisses his temple, those rosey lips makes him less fretful. Holding her hand helps him stand, helps him settle. The lips asks if perhaps they should turn back. His hand relaxes before further clenching his grasp. Tells himself that there’s no turning back, he claims it would be wasteful. For him to overcome they would need to press through.

“I do this for you”