A Fear Of Falling Poem by Dosvedanya Rashia

Death,
my lovely sweet suitor
with eyes, a glorious shade
of cinnamon brown.

Oh, My temptor and my seducer
I lust for you and yet fear you
for your strange mysteries.

I think I shall soon
send my spirit into the clouds,
where you promised to take me, once

A fantasie and fugue land,
A world in which you are powerful,
Provacatively Masculine in your red robes,
Amidst the cotton-candy clouds.

Our lips would touch, mine
to your golden ones,
and our arms will encircle each other
as we ascend together to your pavillion.


For Perhaps with you,
It will be, an
orgasmic experience to
walk on the water of the sky
with no parachute
or fear of falling.