Standing on a balcony a hundred feet off the ground, wipe the dust and soot from the railing onto the floor. The cold of the breeze and the sting of the metal inch under her skin like goosebumps after a warm bath. What was meant to save acts as a lure to death, standing on the balcony a hundred feet off the ground. Hands barely holding on, her cold feet widen apart by the fate of the wind.
Breathlessly falling,
breathlessly feeling,
breathlessly reaching out for dust.
The soot on the bed is from she and I, dirty minds and dirty bribes. The soot on the pillow, that is mine. The chemistry of love combined with the chemistry of the mind creates soot from the eyes that bleed onto cotton-poly blends that will never wash out. Like a tattoo on the face, it will never wash off.
By the fate of the wind, fall from balcony to grave; fall from balcony to grave and still stay still awake. The sound of strangers awaken me, their feet feeling like a colony of ants having their way with me. That light you see, that light that’s so bright, fluorescent they say? It’s blinding me. The brighter the light the darker the shadow, I see the shadow floating out to sea. I look at the balcony and raise myself up. The stronger the love the deeper the cut.
The cold of the breeze and the distance of the fall would have better ruined her than given her another chance at all. I look at the balcony and raise myself up. A shadow is watching, mimicking every move, the mind unallowing of the fates to corrupt.
Standing on the balcony, a hundred feet off the ground, there is a girl below about to drown. In a puddle of torn love and unconscious mind, I jump off and breathlessly reach out for dust.
