Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2019
here on the edge of a precipitous edge

you have the edge

a marksman's blinded eye

holds me in your sights


I have retreated far too much

that is enough for you to know

ceded too much ground

a dire descent is my next step


pull your trigger

let me fall

sharpen your heart on a blunt stone

let it beat to the count of your parasitic pulse


you are dead and just don't know it
Harriet Cleve
Written by
Harriet Cleve
  159
   eleanor prince, Carina and Perry
Please log in to view and add comments on poems