I want to fall into you the way we started to. The way we began with those cant-not-smile-at-you dates. The way we began with looking into each other's hearts with every kiss. The way we didn't want to leave the haven of each other's arms. The way that coming down from starry rooftops meant a descent into reality, where we would respond to fear instead of floating above it.
We deserved those weeks of smiles, hours of sex, feeding one another with take-out, and laughter; sharing cinema and slivers of ourselves reserved for this kind of infantile intimacy. Suspended from judgment, reflecting excitement instead of anxiety in each other eyes.
Instead, we backed away from the edge, we refused to fall, the wounds from previous lovers' leaps too fresh, not yet healed.
The way we began ended too soon.