I stepped out onto the ledge,
your warm silken hands beckoning
me to step out even further,
a silent promise in the air,
a promise to catch me if I fell.
I asked you once, twice, thrice…
if you really would catch me,
for I could always go back.
Back into the cool embrace of

my quiet solitary life,
before I knew you,
before you walked up to me,
asking me how I was doing
in the dark confines of that navy basement.

I thought you’d break my heart,
and I said so out loud,
and you said you’d be the one likely to be
heartbroken.

I found myself on the ledge,
flailing and reaching for your hand.
You withdrew it so suddenly
that the gust of wind knocked me off
the tiny sliver of a precarious ledge.
Your empty promise echoing past me
as I fell head first into an abyss
where friendships are burned to ashes
by cold shoulders and forgotten intimacies.
You stared at me falling,
and failed to even flinch at my demise.
Your warm silken hands turned and revealed,
at that moment, their true selves.