To step so near the brink of this and never jump, to parse the abstruse landscape mapping out its convoluted paths like so much sinew twined and twisted through my body, tracking down a single cell of blood and then to let it go. Like every sudden precipice that begs of me to plummet gaping and appalled and silent. Like every howling gale behind me thrusting and I push it back because to fall is to relent but still I just can’t close the curtains on the mezzanine whose railing I’ve spent all my waking minutes making shine. Wind to put a final polish on the cliffside, glisten like my weeping eyes obstructed, listen to the tempting voice like bloodflow carry me to verges that I know I’ll never cross, or cross only in my blindness over flatter ground somewhere below where craning upward makes a scream I can’t regret because its muted, mitigated by the bluff that stares me down and I imagine climbing but instead I sit and cry, claiming that the beauty brings my tears and knowing somewhere deeper down that it’s the steepness of my lie.

#bestofwashington #nwwriters

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