The Cliff

Some mornings, before I let myself wake up, the dream holds on for a few more minutes.

It is a strange conspiracy my head has. I am lucky to wake up in this life. But some days I don’t want to.

In some dreams, you are a cliff and I am running fast through the woods, straight toward a sharp ledge where water is cascading down hundreds of feet below, and as I near it, with all my adrenaline rushing through my ears, I jump off without hesitation.

Because, you are the cliff.

And you are the sky.

And I know you are safe for me to jump into.

There is a moment suspended in mid-air where the entire world seems to freeze, holding its breath as yet another tiny creature leaps into nothing, perhaps a little too confident that love can carry, and not questioning if it would or not.

I would like to be like that always.

But I always wake up.

And I remember that I have never been that brave in my entire life.


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