The Story Above

I lay on the balcony of the 19th floor, flat on my back.

Gazing at the star's beauty, comparing it to the ones I used to see in your eyes.

You are below me with your head on another man’s stomach, trying, ever so hard not to fall asleep.

I hear the sound of your voice below me.

It's a subtle kiss to my ear drums.

I didn't move directly above you to say I'm over you, but to look over you.

Make sure you're doing alright.

A knock at the door, it's you.

And all you say is you're glad our hearts are on the same level once more.