Sunday, January 29, 2017

gravity

in high school he was a dark
god, far off. somehow he broke
through my wall and i, being a reluctant
good girl, embraced his james-dean-ness.
i fell with him, off the straight-a

list on to the couch in the basement
of his parent's house. he kissed away
my nerves and in a haze of weed i gave
him my virginity; a small thing that he held
with care. we stood stronger together.

he died in a car crash in cleveland after
his parents took him there, after he'd asked
me to marry him and i'd accepted. i'm the
juliet that couldn't follow through
with the unspoken unwritten death contract.

and years later i'm terrified of falling
in love again. as life passes, i see it all
has to do with falling, succumbing to gravity.
your dreams fall, they fail. your breasts fall, your
womb falls. your heart falls, your expectations fall,

leaving nothing but the memory of how it used to be.