Countless times they tell you
to speak, yet
countable times they tell you
of the ringing of the leap
and the acid of the crash.
You will never hear
of your heart choking you
or your blood deafening you
as you stand at the edge of his
77 story building.
You will seldom hear
of the mangling reality
that follows your dance from the top
When his arms do not need to catch you
and his eyes set you aside
To jump is to donate your soul.
To leap is to abandon your pride.
You're shielded on your 18th floor.
But fuck -
his arms seem so tender.