Precipice
And I’m not quite sure
whether you are the wind
or the waves-
when the wrecked hull of my body
lapped at your shoreline,
did you lick my wounds?
When your crests
were coated in oil,
who skimmed your surface?
When the darkness seemed as though
it would never falter
who was saved,
me or you?
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Good subject for a poem. I know this enmeshment!