there is so much to be consumed;
there is so much to consume you

the flame-licking candles of summer love
the zenith where bending over backwards finally breaks
shatters the sky you've met as limits
and you come tumbling down, breaking every branch
at first trying to climb back up 
'I can fix this, I can fix this: I can be whatever you need me to be!'
then, trying not to fall so far
'Please god, no. No, I've worked so hard to stand so high to fall so far!'
then, bringing down what you can with you.
'Get away from me! How could you understand this? I should've let myself fall so long ago!'
'if I would've known just how things would've ended up, I just would've let myself die.'
it might seem like decades before you hit the ground
but when you do
it might be softer than you thought.

the damp familiar scent of falling through seasons, impacting
the autumn of your life: a cushion for tired and splintered bones
hollowed for this hallowed flight
til the ground coos and closes your eyes
with nickels for crossing Styx tonight
and with that, the dirt grows up around you.