I stare at your silhouette as we sit in the dark.
Willingly welcoming the thoughts that steal my sleep.
Standing at the edge of a cliff.
I traded my parachute for one last fight.
I lost.
I slipped.
Right into your grip.
No fair.
You flipped the script.
Plot twist.
The playwright didn't tell me this.
I won't lie.
It's bliss.
