the worst thing about falling
is the drop.

organs pushed up against your ribcage
feels like you’re collapsing into the compression
become
foreground for the blue bits the prisoners call
the sky

the stars
the heavens
orchestrated into undeniable perfection from every angle
make falling
all the more beautiful
then the drop
hit
concrete
no love on the surface that breaks you-
you will never break it
too strong for your small heart
giving testament that you were here
you were here
let the blood spill over
let the love
fall out
skin was not meant to hold all of you

look beautiful on the concrete knowing sky and sea and ground
are all the same on this little blue ball-
just
ones the landing
and the other,
the fall.