I think that we are absolute.
Falling together, we are chilled and fused together, in this-
the furious confusion.
We descend in haste, fingertips grasping and frantic.
Our plight is assured, decided. Though not by us.
We know not where we will land-
only that we will land together.
In spite of their desires.
Despite the howling, the wild hindrances,
the hurried esteem, the interference of circumstance.
Cradle me from my fear and insecurities, my love.
So that I might stare them down,
knock them off their presumptuous pedestals.
For here on this rapid hailstorm, there is only room for you and me.
With tears frozen solid against our burning cheeks.
I like it a lot better this way.
Don’t you?
Some call it red 