Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
I asked her in the middle of a bar and it didn’t sound quite as good when shouted over Tyga.
She looked at me and laughed a little, probably because she didn’t hear what I had said.
She was tall and blonde and lanky and looked like she had just come into whatever it is she decided she was going to be.
She had lips like honey and eyes that glazed over me and I liked that.
She made me think about love, the way we always equate it with something that hurts, Cupid’s Arrow, struck through the chest, falling and falling down.
Perhaps there really isn’t love without it, without pain and suffering, without hoping and hurting and letting it all go.
She asked me what I was thinking about and I told her nothing, because this sort of thing seemed a little heavy after “hello”.