And again I run to the same cliff

I find it in every heart and move swiftly

Towards the fall

It is the woods I know

Loneliness, all trees and low ferns

I am comfortable in the underbrush

It is always the cliffs and the kitchen knives

That pull me out

There is beauty and functionality

But I always rush towards

The edge

And I hate that they say love is like falling

Because really love is like climbing

I don’t know where to put my hands

As I rise out of the canopy of loneliness

Overcoming a fear of heights

For the beauty of the view

But I arrive often from the woods

To a cliff

After no climb

And the bird that lives in my rib cage

Tells me we can still fly

There is no falling or flying in love

Only foot holds and acceptance

Of the face of this earth as it is

The rise and fall of my heart as it is