I still stand here,
though terrified of falling.
slight breezes amplify,
becoming gusts to the mind;
slight sways to tumults,
upsets threatening demise.
remembering advice
of sage and wise -
never look down
when perched up so high.
pretenders will lie,
saying heart beats speed,
pounding in ear, but fear
homes in there.
it slows, knows
every pulse, a potential push
like butterfly tempest
to certain death
waiting below.
fingers freeze, unable to let go
anything steady
'till eyes fix to blue sky above.
precarious positions
feel a lot like love.