I know the precipice inching up on me,
feel blindly with my foot behind me,
try to step backward, back into our time,
of us before this division broke us
into silence, breathed hard in between,
the sharp air that split our rock like a steel wedge.
I fear the closing distance to the edge
that sets itself in stone, I see, the space
before me sending back not even the smallest echo
of a whispered moan, no regret from the curve of your back,
your meaning to say any other way than that you will
no longer touch me, I will hear no more from you
there is no warming the cold of you, there will not
be a sigh at all for my falling off the edge.
* * * * *
Today’s word is
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