The Fall
If you ever watch a leaf fall,
You’ll realize,
That it never rushes to hit the ground.
The fall is slow, soft
almost as if
It were drawing out a symphony
To immortalize its life
Letting the wind trace patterns on its surface
like a lovers fingertips
And then it settles on the ground ,
graceful…even in its final moments.
Before it turns from new to brittle,
Brittle to dying,
Dying to dust.
But still slow…
as though it has found its peace at last
I believed falling in love would be something similar too.
Not like the collisions and explosions they write about,
The sweating and palpitations they glorify.
But the calm heartbeat of a man breathing his last
a man satisfied with what he was,
a man fulfilled with what he will be.
Nothing broken,
Nothing shattered,
At peace.
I hoped falling for you would be the same.
As if my soul was being kissed by air
before it finally rests my body in your arms,
where I would, at last, find my solace.
But sadly
I forgot
I wasn’t a leaf.
