I’m falling like rocks on a cliff side,
like you fall in love,
falling like a ripened vine,
or how your hand falls into mine.
*
I’m falling into the strangeness and the unknown,
like the raven learns to flap its wings,
falling like a soaking autumn leaf,
and your eyelashes when you fall asleep.
*
I’m falling like the sweet Oregon rain,
like the boy who scrapes his knee,
falling like your fingertips on black and white keys,
or how each teardrop falls on your blushed cheeks.
*
I’m falling far and falling away,
like the sunshine falls each night,
like words fall into my mind,
like time falls out of my life.
*
I'm falling and falling apart.
About the Creator
Sam Eliza Green
Wayward soul, who finds belonging in the eerie and bittersweet. Poetry, short stories, and epics. Stay a while if you're struggling to feel understood. There's a place for you here.
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Comments (2)
This spoke to me. The nearest thought it stirred: the diverse range of falls, in so many contexts and emotional colors – both contrasting and complimenting each other – make the idea of falling emerge (in between them) as a freshly highlighted enigma. Falling apart need not mean (only) the sadness or pain of disintegration: maybe it has traces or echoes of the other kinds of fall as well. The best words are probably those whose fall into the mind is the most manifold: words that fall like rain, like lashes and sunshine and rocks – and that also make the writer fall apart (have the self disintegrate, so that the spirit can whisper instead).
This is beautiful