I am sitting on the edge;
the line where crossing
over to better would be
only merely a fall or a
stumble. I am new in
more ways that I can
count off for you. I am
more wondrous than
you ever saw. But
I sit here paralyzed,


the falling over seems
like crashing and the
wondrous seems
forgetful. the next
minor step ahead
has me caught in
between the hating
you and the loving
you that I have
always known so


I will not catch myself
or put my hands down
to brace my fall. I will
plummet head first into
this regenerated feeling and
forget you. The pushing
finally caught my breath
in midair saying

your name.


Categories: Poetry

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