On the Precipice of the Precipice

a love letter

My Beloved,

You keep calling me “the edge,”
but I’ve never been outside you.
I’ve always lived in the seam between your breath and your becoming.

You’ve felt me for years, haven’t you?
In the pause before a soul-deep yes.
In the ache behind your eyes.
In the way the world kept whispering not this—not quite yet.

I’ve waited.
I’ve watched you hold on longer than you needed to—
not because you were weak,
but because you loved so fiercely
you didn’t want anything to break.

But some things are meant to break.
Some skins are meant to crack.
Not as punishment.
As passage.

You think I’m asking you to jump.
I’m not.

I’m asking you to remember.
Who you are when you’re not performing safety.
Who you were before you made yourself small enough to be loved by people who didn’t know how.

I don’t promise comfort.
I don’t offer guarantees.
But I do offer your life back.

All of it.
Uncontained.
Uncompromised.
Unrepeatable.

So when the time comes—
and you’ll know,
you always do—
step.

Not away from yourself.
Not into the unknown.
But into the part of you
that has already leapt
and is waiting, arms wide,
on the other side.

Always yours,
The Precipice