The breaking,
of that, final branch.

That, unmistaken,
crunching, chance.

The twist,
that teased,
the gritted crush...

...of bitter unease.

Blood, like, sap, aching,
pouring out, unstanched.

The forgotten cut, forsaken...

...of rotten, felled circumstance.

Feels, as though, inhumane, is everlasting.

To heal and grow...

...after falling, from a baned tree, ungrasping...

...is the toughest ask in life's chase romance.

© poormansdreams

I’ve bitten my tongue so many times,
my mouth is lined with scars,
sealing away the words I long to speak,
so they don’t wound you where you already bleed.

But the silence is heavy, and so am I—
weighed down by words unspoken,
by love held too carefully in shaking hands,
afraid to crush you, afraid to lose you.

I want to be patient, to be kind,
to trust in the things you’ve told me,
but my mind is a restless thing,
spinning doubts like spiderwebs,
catching my hope in threads of fear.

Because I know you love me—
but love has never been my safe place.
Love has always been a thing
that slips between my fingers,
even when I hold it with both hands.

So when you tell me you’re coming,
when you say I am the one you want,
a part of me clings to the words,
while another waits for them to fade,
to turn into echoes of promises past.

And maybe that’s why I can’t breathe
when I watch you stand in the rain,
drenched in a debt you never had to pay.
You think you owe her,
but you don’t owe her a ******* thing.
Not your time, not your strength,
not your love, not your future.

And me? I am here, dry and warm,
with open arms and an open door,
and a love that does not ask for sacrifice,
only for you.

But is it fear that keeps you there?
Or is it that I am something to want,
but not something to choose?
Do I exist in the space between your steps,
always longed for but never reached?

I do not doubt you, but I doubt love.
I doubt the things that have never stayed,
the dreams that have always been just out of reach.
I war with myself, torn between believing
and protecting the parts of me
that have been left behind before.

But you are not them.
And I do not want to let fear
build walls where doors should be.

So come home to me.
Not because I need you,
but because you need this.
A love without chains,
a life without guilt,
a place where you can just be
without always fighting to be enough.

And still, I stand at the edge,
staring down into the fall,
wondering if I will be caught,
or if I will crash—
just another foolish heart
that believed in something too much.

Why do I fall for so many people,
But no one falls for me?
Is it just me not being able to express it,
Or when you see me you want to take the express way?
Is it me talking a lot,
Or you talking to others about me?
And not positively.
I may get portrayed as the crazy one,
But all I want to get portrayed as is someone's love.
Why am I so different? Am I undeserving?
Its not specifics anymore.
Is it just me completely?
Because you all have just completely ignored me.

This time,
I wore
a parachute
before
I jumped
off the
edge
of
fa
ll
in
g

Do you look where you Fall
When you fall in Love –
To miss someone is Such a shame
A bold claim; by the Extensions of
Words showing their action – what is
The extent of Love?

The obsession of a lover is a Disease
Love sickness, Smitten cheeks, knees in
The weak, but by the End of a week, my
Taste for love, has become me Devouring
Your image.

To that extent, my Love is just
Passions of the flesh; flesh falls short to Death
Words fall short to Language barriers –
Body language has Shaky bones
        But still, we all seem to fall.

Flying in falling
Softly snow, five blue pigeons
And a white pigeon.  

What-if-that-dream-we-
had-where-we-are-all-
fall-
ing-
is-
sim-
­ply-
the-
coll-
ect-
ive-
sub-
con-
sci-
ous-
of-
our-
**-
me-
pl­a-
net-
call-
ing?
The
lad-
der-
to-
cli-
mb-
bac-
k-up-
see-
ms-­
to-
go-
on-
for-
ever-
and-
the-
clo-
ck-
at-
the-top-keeps-on-
­striking-ten-past-never.

© poormansdreams

the sweet scent of flowers
grazes the finely thinned hairs of a lover
while a butterfly flits in their stomach ready
to tie that uncomfortable knot…

                               she has fallen in love.

Greek heroes fall
Down and down again.
Years of glory,
Birthdays, family
Gone in a
single push
in a single
sun-burnt wing.

Will you fall tomorrow
As well?

Falling is scary. You give up safety. Security. Except sometimes, you don't.
Like when you fall back
to a simpler time.
Or falling in love. Falling on your bed.
Or falling in line.
I guess what I'm saying is...
sometimes, it's okay to fall.