It's A Long Way Down

I think I'm afraid of heights.

It's not a theory I frequently test out.

So I can't be certain.

I only say this because if I want to be in love, it seems I have to fall.

The height that I have to fall from is not specified.

But I assume the deeper the love the higher

the fall.

Are you expected to leap or step?

You'd have to be pretty confident to leap into love.

Although they say fall.

So it must be unexpected.

To fall in life is never celebrated.

Falling breaks legs,

arms,

mugs,

eggs.

It's frowned upon.

Ridiculed.

And the odd time it's laughed at.

But falling in love is the exception.

It's celebrated.

Congratulated.

Cherished.

It's the only kind of fall that is thrown a party.

When you fall in love, I don't think you reach the ground.

Or if you do, it's not on your own.

Maybe falling in love is a perpetual falling.

I can't imagine you can see the distance before you fall.

Do you stumble into love?

Or is it a sure footing that lands in a gap?

You mustn't see it coming.

Otherwise you wouldn't fall.

You would jump into love.

So I guess a fear of heights makes no difference.

Because the fall isn't a decision.

It's not something you choose.

Or can see coming.

It's just there.

And you just fall.

And you just love.