I stand on the tightrope of vulnerability

over the roiling pit

never knowing if it contains acid

that will dissolve my skin on contact

or honey

that could coat my tongue

ease my aching soul

no pebbles to toss in

to test my theories

I fight for balance

before succumbing

to old habits

cut myself to the bone

with sharp steel

then wonder if the dripping blood

will attract butterflies

or sharks


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved




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