The Cliff

When you lie across from me,
eyes staring into nothing
you remind me of a lonely tree
hanging on a cliff face
Frail and beautiful
you still rejoice in the sun
Your Leaves open like tiny lights
and make the gash a smile
your home your curse your strength
Alone
you live at the height but see the depth

Then you weakly smile,
and shift your body stare at the ceiling
to wish your cliff away
for good soil
for a wooded clearing
it must get boring staring into the abyss
On the Precipice where everything matters
no ebullient growth on this slippery slope
where the ground moves under your grip
and the merest breeze could cause a slip
Awareness is a curse when you cannot move

But you blossom with hope
as the wind shakes your limbs
crying white petals into the yawning void
falls like healing rain
filling it with yourself

You explain in halting words
chiseled into your granite cliff
And I see only a fearful pain
which I exhaust myself to plaster
like an illiterate editor
I miss the words which say
""
I'm just terrified you'll fall.