The New Girl

Everyone has
a breaking point.
A line they can’t
help but cross when
the time is right but
not a moment before.

I won’t believe you
when you cautiously
admit that you “think”
you have arrived there.

Because you haven’t.

Believe me, you’ll know.

The guns on the tower
will be trained on you.
The gang plank will be out.
The key will be on the table
and you will be the right size
to grasp it and the door handle.

You’ll be perched
on the precipice
with nowhere to go
but over and
your breath will
catch around that
lump in your throat
and you will close your
eyes and, my darling,
you will fly.


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