Here we stand, on precipices of stars and skies. One step, a small breath, a slight breeze to tousle my hair. A lovers hand, gently swaying strands. Will he pull? Will he strike? Will he push me? Leave me to the night?
Not today it seems as we step away, a dance of carefully crafted precision. Dangerous games we play here on the ledge. Yet there’s a piece of me, rising again, demon in disguise.
She charges again and again, wild in her being, eyes chasing the sand. Determined and unsteadying she demands control of the wind. Throw me down she will so she can stand here too. Plucking the stars from their branches, shoving her hungry mouth full, she’ll devour the light within you.