Altoids and nature and unconditional love

Everything is relative you say and I scoff because I have no defense. You're high and you're explaining that if you believe it enough you'll fly. We're looking out over the National Forest. Too high up to test the theory. And I'm never sure if I should laugh or beg. So I push the top on a rusted out Altoids can that came back from London in a carry on. It'd been tossed aside and forgotten until you unearthed it and complimented my Summer stash.

Kiss me I say to distract you from the flight. But you shake me off and I pop the top to show you a balloon and a simple bag stamped death and I have your attention and your needle has rot so I throw you the bag and walk away.

And I hate you and I love you and ill hold you in the swoon. And I'll throw my hands to heavens and pray they hear my thanks. Because I was so thankful that you were in my arms. So safe and unmolested by the world.

I fell asleep on the arch so far above the ground with you in my arms. And I woke too the dawn and you disoriented and searching for an Altoid and a Gimmick.

I kissed you before your fix and you loved me when you found it.