(This poem was written during a poet workshop session. The prompt was "I'm not ready," and we were given 13 minutes.)
She love me like skydive
Packed her parachute with the dreams of flying through the clouds with me
Letting the wind both carry and caress her on the way down
She'd scream
And laugh
and revel in the moments as they ticked away and we reached the peak
I haven't managed to pry my fingers from the notches on the side of the plane
On the outside I look just like her
My helmet is chin strapped to my inhibitions
My suit is the uniform of fallen angels
Falling angles together
I can hear her Geronimo in my fears
She's loving the ride and hasn't bared to look at her passenger side
If I jump now
I maybe can mask my hesitation
She'll never know my indiscretion against the metronome of our virgin flight
Cupid shot her
She shot herself off the cliff
The first step into blissful nothingness
If I shoot now
I'll be a bullet to catch her
Descend at the same trajectory
And we can fly like meteors
But love like birds diving
She can't see me gaining speed
My fingers graze her string and she jerks toward the heavens
Her wings block out the sun
And she loves like a skydive
While I scream
