And no matter what I do, my feet wouldn't touch the ground.
The way we are perched on the parapet. Honey. Toes dangling in mid air. Seven floors above ground.
Or is it eight.
I want to jump off, as much as I want to stay put.
And I don't want to have to explain a thing. Any-thing. I choose to be ignorant. And wallow in this bliss, longer.
Till this high sustains me. Till I survive this high, just about right, to kiss you back enough. And return the favor. So that nothing is left un-bought. Such that I should feel I deserved it enough.
And such that I can get off from here, and walk back into my room. Feet waivering though, but still touching ground. Into my bed. And back to sleep.