torture is peace
when your future will wait
for you to ripen from the core out.

alright, your skin hangs,
your lips lift, your eyes speak
and you stutter.
I am fallen.
I hang from an arm that learned how to reach
and I'm going to try and focus on the free fall
rather than the few seconds before I hit the ground.
you sound out feelings,
almost embarrassing to watch the pictures they create.

a light shown through in the darkness
and was burned into my memory,
useful if I wanted to see further.
blinding at first sight.

revolving!
rotating in my thoughts
if you fall over the edge, I can't catch you
but I'll let you share the ledge where I so delicately hang.