Our bodies resist falling, they --
Have spent too many years being upright and presentable
To want to have to pick themselves back up, again.
Which is to say --
There is shame, falling, in love.
There is shame falling at all, so we never even get to the love.
There is shame falling, so we get *maybe* right up to the f, sometimes we f, and if we’re lucky we f it all.
Like: sex on the beach, left love speechless
They say that money talk so I let the others speak up.
While the only currency I had, I --
Scrimped and saved,
Like saving face by playing it safe
Rationing out affection from this jaded place
Hoarding my imaginary height, this…
Sleight of hand I pulled on myself
Pushing what little I had and
Chasing what little I took.
These... emotional scraps.
These emotional scraps
Defeated the best of us and
Deafened the rest of us
To the sound of hitting bottom.
But, isn't that just another way of falling
Isn't traveling down just another way to feel
The gravity on our bodies
We have resisted for too long?
So why not ground ourselves in the work that it takes
To really inhabit this space -- that is us
Not getting comfort-able but
Getting comfort from ourselves
To be able to give to another
Like free falling from the height of expectation
In the full weight of desire
To talk that real talk of hello
And please, take me --
Because I am finally, actually, here.