I fell.

Patently, my landing was not overt.

For some odd reason, the fall didn't hurt.

I laid there uncomfortably, still, supine,

but you were there too, warm, sublime.

We spoke for hours, watching the stratus and cumulus.

Conversations so pleasant, memorable, and humorous.

However, I had to go. No greater trap than a crush’s smile.

But before I left, you faced me and said, "Hey, stay a while."

The hour became the day, and the day became the week.

I ultimately noticed my feelings were turning obsolete.

In the distance, my name was called, and I knew it was time.

The confession leaked from my lips, as sound as rhyme.

With sweaty palms, I got through it, though I wasn’t the best with my words.

As I began to lift my body, regrets plagued my mind. This was absurd.

Once I sat up, there was something I noticed as you stared. I felt unwell.

This whole time, you weren't lying down, you were sitting. You never fell.

I stood.