cutofakiss

she tells me that there's a difference- between jumping and falling, even thirty one stories up. I lace my fingers through her coffee brown hair and tangle my legs with hers like a safety rope. she might just be thinking these things, but thoughts are always more dangerous than they appear.  and I don't want to search through the crumbling layers of earth and cement to find the last molecules of you. the fingertips sliding over my belly catch my mind wavering, thirty one stories up.  her brown eyes dare me not to fall. "what's the difference?" I whisper into my pillow.  her breath jerks in her throat.  "because," she answer