What is the architecture of falling?
Is it built on the curve of your lip?
A landscape my eyes follow
over nose to waiting brow.

Face that holds skull retreating
into fissures and dark worlds
containing all that you will ever be
the unreachable temple of soul.

I drag my gaze up
over plains of skin
towards the air of our pause.

The swirling, spinning, dance of breath
and feel the plummeting depths
of a pounding heart love.

Hammering ramparts to empty hope
these buildings do not meet
go upwards ever reaching
until the foundations cannot hold.

-By the Corbyhawk
*these are copyrighted just in case you are wondering