i am so terrified of heights that i cry,
but if i were to kiss you,
i would do it at the top of a ferris wheel in august
and i would not stop
until my feet were on solid ground
and until the mountains got jealous
because the sunrise never kissed them that well.

one time, at the top of a roller coaster,
my eyes blacked out and my knuckles-
well, they were white;
i gripped onto that handle as tightly as
your mere existence seized my mind,
and i think that the sand on the beaches
were jealous because the sea has never clutched them so closely.

the message that i'm trying to convey is that
with enough time, i overcome my fears.
one day, i'll hold your hand
without you taking mine first,
because i know you'll revel in it.
and i know that the deserts will be jealous
because the tantalizing rain is never so dauntless.

(v.g.w.)