metaphorical simile

this falling is

the scent of a bonfire
clinging to shirts and sheets
like we do to our skins

of sulfur-soaked fingertips
like addiction and avoidance

it's whispering and muting
like a secret already spoken

it's shock and laughter
stories and stolen moments
we sneak for no reason
like there's glass beneath our feet
but we still walk with a stomp in our step

but down-hearted does not
begin to describe
like the hail and heartbreak
knocking at my window
in the middle of the night.