a liminal space but sharp
with a single precipice
the surface of a brief kiss
something sold off a green tarp

a fall you couldn’t undo
a climb we couldn’t reverse
and it’s a gift and a curse
that we can’t help but renew

then it’s a diagnosis,
principle, identity,
story told on several nights
whatever it needs to be
to beyond the prognosis
share in persistent delight

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