Sticks and Stones

May break my bones

Smoke and mirrors
first hide my fears,
but reflection will
expose them.

Photo by Lisa from Pexels

What is Love?

Baby, don’t hurt me.

On the edge of a cliff
I stand,
head bowed,
hands clasping
the wrought iron form
of my heart,
not wanting to drop it
but needing to let it fall.

I don’t look
down below.
I don’t dare
try to ascertain
who might catch it
or whether
there is anyone
to catch it at all.

I simply loosen my grasp
and allow it to tumble
from fumbling fingertips
into the unknown.

Photo by Anna Urlapova from Pexels

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