I stand here on the
Edge.
The soft breeze carries
Your scent
Through my nostrils and into
My lungs.
The mountainside is
Steep.
If you let me hit the
Jagged rocks
At the bottom,
I will surely
Die.

So don't let
Me down now,
love. Make sure to
Catch my
Fall.
Make me a nest with
The sweet honey
Words of your
Shockingly red-violet
Mouth.
Give me a parachute of
Kisses to catch the
Air with on my
Descent.