Falling |
| by Chase |
I softly fall into his arms.
My dependent self wanting to depend on him.
My independent self wanting to pull away.
His body so warm.
My heaven or hell?
Should I let go, should I fall and expect him to catch me?
Fall and hit hard?
Float on a cloud?
I shouldn't rationalize.
I shouldn't analyze every little move, but I do.
His soft lips of pink.
Hair the color of pure black softness.
His eyes as blue and crystal as the sea.
Soft hands of love, warmth, and compassion.
I can not fall, without knowing I will not hit the ground.
Do you have to fall before you can float upon a cloud?
Maybe I can't let go of what's holding me up.
The dependent side wants to say no.
The independent side says take a chance.
Falling . . . I will catch myself.
That much I need.
Then I am no longer dependent.
Individual thoughts can be only me.
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