Edges

Soft unfurling

lilting there.

Blurred to knowing.

Faint.

Sharp edges cut through muck, severing ties.

Dull edges blend, blur and fade into nothing.

Edges can be honed or lost over time, over use, over forgetfulness.

Some of my edges are firm, sharp and cutting as the wickedest tongue. I keep them that way, for safety, for comfort, for no reason at all.

Some of my edges have been worn down, softened and all but disappeared. I let them go out of love, tiredness, and too high expectations.

Some edges are new. Some edges are old. Some are still waiting to be formed or let go.

Do you need those edges?

Do they still serve you?

Where do you still need them?