Stitches

A Poem by Linden

co-write. mmhmm

We stroll on the cusp of darkness,
Seeking the shadows to itch our backs
Or the fading day to wrinkles our faces

Behold! You shake summer from my sleeves!
If that is not beautiful to believe in
Then I don’t know what else to think.

Dancing on the edge of a tightrope
Felt like the right dope for the relapsed
Adrenaline junkie

Arms outstretched; twirling, daring
To make a bet with death, she counted
The specks that float thru the air
In attempt to remember dreams

On the count of three she let out a breath
And laughed as she skipped across the
Too high wire without a net
Into the overabundance of canopy
Leading to the star-lit monkey bars
Of ill persuasion and manipulation
Of what little is left in a wayward man

Wow, that came fast! She said,
Recoiled, returned to the shelf,
to spend the nights waiting
for dust in the quadrants
Of exposed sunlight.