I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep me from retching my big secret.
And your hand is over my eyes to keep me from seeing my worst enemy. We are standing on the top of a cliff but there is no bottom to die in.
I sit down at the edge, my legs swinging, I can see a few rays of sunlight between your fingers over my eyes but mostly red.
I see the red blood through your fingers and I think, this is better than the sun
At least now, I can see you clearly. When your hand is away from my eyes, I am immediately blinded by the sun, and I turn to you hoping the sudden light would be blocked and I would laugh but
When I turn to look at you, there is only empty space
The cliff's end is now all ocean and harsh rocky bottom
This time, I cover my own eyes. But, not my mouth
I shout the heavens, and nearly fall off the edge,
Were you here at all?
YOU ARE READING
Not Quite, Midnight | poems
Poetry~she sets out to write for herself but casts a line from her ship of lunatics in case there was someone adrift trying to read along.
