First trip, second pitfall, third hole…
I can never get used to the fall. Ironically, falling for you never feels like one; I never feel like I am dropped down, instead it feels like I am flying high, steady, landing on my two feet and going up again whenever you come home. With you, it doesn’t feel like falling, it feels like one step backward to move two steps forward. I like how I never get bruises from falling for you. Instead, I got two arms and wings to get me back up on the count of two.
I always love the idea of you, your mere presence, your mere existence — I never have to touch nor to taste you to know that you are there. You are there, darling, you have always been there, with your shoulders to lean on and your lips to dive my face into.
They said that I fell for you but you are the best stumble I’ve ever gone through; even if someday I got dragged to another whole new world, I would look for you and that plummet of yours again, unhesitantly.
I no longer feel pain — my trip down was a fascinating gain. I would slip, again, even when it rains, even when my feelings can’t any longer be contained, even when my heart cleans up its stains.
And with that being said, darling, I don’t think leaving you was ever an option. I am beating for you and it never had a rhythm better than this.
I love you and I never stutter. I love you even when I am unspoken. I love you even when I am inaudible. I love you even when I am gone; and I don’t think I will ever be.
Not from you, at least.
