Fall
written by: Emma Wells
If I allow myself,
I will fall.
Amidst gnarly thorns,
snags and deep lashes,
I shall find you,
buried deep in undergrowth,
waiting to be reborn.
Sheer, lucid need
stretches sinews taut,
reaching for an invisible you:
a mirage on the horizon,
disappearing in plain sight.
To fall is to erase myself
yet how sweet the destruction –
marrying heaven and hell
in one heady gulp,
unwrapping barbed wire layers
until I rediscover you,
fall into your chest:
smudging, blurring identities.
If I fell into a mirror,
would you catch me?
Be my breathing hole?
I sense your presence
beneath reflections,
luring as a troubled ghost,
unable to settle – without me.
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