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Why Do We Fall in Love?

I wanted to say I was falling in love with you.
But I wondered why love would be described as Falling.
Would I be like a fallen city?
Knocked down barricades,
burned down houses,
broken women and children,
dead men?
Conquered?
Am I a thing to be conquered?

A Fallen empire?
something long forgotten?
Just a leftover version of myths someone proved correct?
Hidden away in rubbles of old alters were he worships me
or dusty history books.
No one even reads history books any more.

Or am I more like a tea cup?
Fallen off a shelf while I dusted my mother's cupboards,
shattered into so many pieces I swept up
and hid in the Pit Latrine.
I wonder if she will ever figure I broke it.
Is that what will happen?
Will I break if I fall in Love?
Will someone sweep me up and hide me?

Because I am falling for a boy
and it feels a lot less like falling.
A lot more like flying.
Or floating.
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