writing

Fallen

The air was knocked out,

Of my lungs,

And the scream I made,

Was deafening.

The chill of the breeze,

And ferocity as it comes,

Is not what left me,

Trembling.

But rather the harsh landing,

Of the floor,

Suddenly, as I fell from,

Above.

Neither a scrape nor a bruise,

Left, but something more:

The realization of how far I fell,

In Love.

 

 

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