There are no smooth edges
just the crazy
surface
to which my fingers cling
fly like and full of terrified vertigo
knowing that sooner or later
I will fall no net below to catch me
only the dismal gray
landscape
as remote and inhospitable
as the surface of the Moon
I used to bask in moonlight
back when waiting for
her to text
I can't even look up
these days
scared the Moon by
fall down on me
I see her face; her dark eyes
her slanted smile
I am a fly on the wall
waiting for the Earthquake
to loosen my grip
cause me to slip
turn me into a blip
or a smudge on the floor
for her to step over
not even as dignified
as one of her stepping stones
there are no smooth
edges
to any of it just
sharp points I keep pricking myself on
bad birthday wishes I wish I never wished
and can't take back
can't repair
can't fly away to get
around
I cling here to
survive
when I know survival might not be possible
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