Edging
I don’t want to get lost in a person.
If I do, it’s on me.
Yet—
I feel myself edging towards it—
the drop off.
Sometimes I pull back.
Sometimes I don’t,
content with
the danger.
Wind at my back
hair whipping across my face
distorting the view
of the drop
below
I remain
statuesque
at the edge of you.
Posted May 10, 2026, 2:44 PM UTC
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