Christine Fellows Trust
The first night.
Only windows.
All thrown open am I.
One last look
is all it took
to give it a name: falling.
I fall in your arms when your head is turned.
Shot straight from the sky into your heart.
When slings for your limbs and a breaking fall
are all you need.
Paper thin.
Turning over and over again.
You've been spared but barely there.
I fall in your arms when your head is turned.
Shot straight from the sky into your heart.
When slings for your limbs and a breaking fall
are all you need.
