fall – but only from heights

when I thought I had seen too much,
of how I wished to see myself,
in her – i had dissolved boundaries
and drawing lines has always
been the most essential part of my days
lines are the rocket-trails for my veins
that are talked down to by skin,
pretending to be a murky hue of the ever-so-blue sky,
waiting to disintegrate into dust and become the part of
an anonymous rocket-trail but in an ever-so-blue sky
– for everything craves an inertial identity