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.