You Fell

You Fell

By Spiral Breeze

You called and told me you had fallen, fallen down from two jumps you said.  My heart raced, for a split second I believed you to be making some sick joke.  Why?  Just yesterday, you explained how many scaffolding deaths there had been in Manhattan last year, how you wanted to switch careers before you wound up with ruptured disks, or worse dead.  You must know, that I don’t want you dead.  I wouldn’t know what to do with that information.  How does one process the death of someone they sleep next to every night?  I definitely don’t want you dead.  You told me you fell twelve feet.  All I know is slipping on ice, my feet gone swiftly beneath me.  I don’t want to know what it’s like to fall twelve feet.  Thank the Gods you’re alive.  You told me you fractured your wrist, and got stitches on your handsome face.  I’m afraid to look at you when you come through that front door.  Will I cry?  Is that what true love is, when you anxiously await their return home after being injured?  Is this how an army wife feels?  Probably not.  I’m thankful you’re alive, and please, please my darling man, never tell me you’ve fallen again.