Falling

And I wrote a love poem once, but it was such a fickle thing. And that's the thing about love, It's only ever been lent to me. And I borrow it in my heart, like I borrow the breeze on my skin, the view on my irises, the pain on my callouses, and the poem on my lips, that goes like this... I'd rather nick myself shaving, to get it out of the way in the morning. I'd rather peel like an orange, bit by bit. I'd rather fall in love, for one single happy hour. And I'd rather do my drowning, sip by sip. Kiss me. Whiskey. Whisk me, into a world of only waltzing. Dip me, neck deep. And thank god pouring, is the prettiest form of falling. And I wrote a love poem once, well, actually I borrowed it from a friend, and it's stuck like a six legged tune inside my head. And I will live in my debts, and die under my tab. But I'll have enjoyed the dance, and never give the poem back.