Nicole Johnson

Standing on the edge of the oblivion.
We are so high.
So afraid to jump and yet afraid to move closer to the cusp of tomorrow.
Grasping each other’s hands,
a gentle squeeze no longer.
We hold on to the memories with the will of a thousand strangers.
Not a single glimpse was given as we release all of today’s self doubt into the trees.
A scent of pine, maybe a salted breeze.
Her body contracts as she tells the others to step back.
We’ve got this, we’re jumping off.
The air seeps into their lungs as they hang in the towel and embrace themselves in the now.
Incognito no longer, she falls apart.