100 Words on Love, by Greg White
Romativertigo: the fear of falling in love.
Standing on the lonely precipice I could see the darkness, but that edge has other sides. I smelled the sweetness of love rising up in the wind. I wrapped that scented breeze around me and fell tumbling off the cliff and floated, cozy from the love, never wanting the ride to end. If it does, I’ll be surely crushed, but the scent will linger. I can hold it close, happy to be reminded of what once was. If I approach the cliff again will the cruel, swirling wind tempt me?
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Photo: Flickr/ losmininos