Home for moments to gather
self/belongings/thoughts.
Step right up to the ******* edge.
Beneath my form;
one thousand
        foot
              drop.

Tethered by words and
a knock at the door,
step away, breathing-

Just breathing.

Quick flashed smiles and
‘Are you going out tonight?’
With a reply, of course:
in words, ‘of course’.

And breathing,
with a song running under skin
proving opposite of words
they sing.

So step away from edge
and walk down hill
with head held high.
Lead self to memories,
crying dont
        you
              stop