it drips down,
off the ceiling,
over the candelabrum
and right into my own lap.
i'm sitting catty corner to an old lady that once told me i'd never find love.
now, she is spitting lines like,
"you found it and you let it go."
and "you'll never be so lucky again."
you think i'm not aware?
or that i cannot remember
the spit shake,
the transfer of blood?
i've drained myself emotionally,
almost done so physically.
i'm stammering,
liquifying my insides.
simply put,
i'm laying on my floor
intoxicated
as i am told that the way i handle love,
is no way to handle at all.
all the while,
i'm wish you would come over and cover my ears.
dreaming
you up
laying atop of me while i bury my face into the pillow,
running your hands through my hair and
speaking directly to my brain,
"if you feel it a crash landing, land softly."