We’re dancing on the edge of a precipice
Except you have both your feet
Planted firmly on solid ground
And I keep pirouetting closer to the edge.
And fragile
A swift breeze would do it
One loose rock under foot
It would be quick.

But there you are
Both my hands in yours
And your feet
My anchors.

There are daisies growing in the cracks of this landslide.

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