I was once told,
"The only way to go down is fighting."
Punch a hole in the acidic cloud cover
and watch it refill above you
while you start to disintegrate.
This is my bravery -
it hollows me.

I fall through a slow-motion sky
where it is always winter.
I fall through a jar of honey
that catches and numbs me.
I fall down your wonderful neck
and if I look up,
your face is obscured by a camera
with a flash as intense as the sun.

Blinded as I am,
I'm too damn proud to fold myself inwards
and pray the ground will rush to meet me:
a sweet collision, above and below
and inside me,
where a thousand pages have scattered.
This is my love -
what it's done to me.