The L(edge)

There is a small ledge
in the corner of our balcony.
It is the perfect spot for dying.
Sometimes I imagine myself
pulling up a chair
and getting on the ledge,
teetering, tottering
the wind on my face, a whisper
caressing, softly coaxing
The darkness below
beckoning.
I think to myself,
“How easy it is to take a step”
and feel
for a split second
the rush of finally being over the edge
tasting freedom.
Falling,
falling,
falling
Finally.

There is a small ledge
in the corner of our balcony.
It is the perfect spot for dyi—

 

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