You are afraid of heights…but not much else. You condition your thighs to crack bones in the ring for fun. You spent a childhood in dark Russian orphanage…refusing to memorize poems so you could be a real person. You flew to a vast unknown to meet a stranger. Left the comfort of the fine life layed before you to touch something you thought was different…to follow a dream that wasnt even alive. And now you’re not even given the dignity of an old photograph.
Now there is tears in the corner of your eyes. I know you want me to think they are from the burning ice and the howling wind…but its the heights. Its the climb up. Its the rock that smashed your knee…the one I shook loose. I was afraid too… of your tenacity…your will and blind honesty. Why dont you protect yourself? Get out of the way. That rock seems like a stupid analogy. I kicked it accidentally, sure…but I knew it was a bad idea in the first place…to have us there clinging to the side of a cliff. Even as I write the words I know it all falls on me. You would have followed me anywhere. You did once. And now your photoshopped from this picture because I dont want to forget…but I cant look you in the eyes.
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