the edges of myself

words, words, words

i cannot compete with a ghost

her hold upon your heart– gut wrenchingly

precise.  keeping you folded– a

neatly stacked pile of protection, save those

tiny glimpses of trust.

Nor can i measure against a sweet babe,

her newness and discovery perfectly prescribed

for your carefully crafted vision of lonely.

My arms cannot extend past their own reach–

unless you’re willing to extend yours as well.

There is nothing to be gained by your careful step

And no guarantee that a jump won’t result

in a fall.

Often it’s those falls, without care, exuding ease

that are the most beautiful (and i should know)

being well-practiced.

These choices are yours to make

One fearful foot in front of the other–

your own brand of adventure,

traversing lands unknown, fleeing something,

someone, you can’t possibly escape.

It’s the quiet adventures i choose, for now.

This journey of handing over a key that has been

expertly hidden.

The mysteries unfolding from that carefully locked box

beyond your (and my) wildest imaginings.

an open willingness beyond measure–

a simple surrender.

A painting, continuously progressing,

its simple lines and language of color

beg for more– the rhythm of your brush

upon the canvas– in concert with mine–

the end result being a work of art

beyond any interpretation either one of us

could have captured


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