Liminal Spaces

i trace the outline 

where being meets nothingness

 in the hollow afternoon, where shadows

stretch and blur against unforgiving concrete.

I am caught between staying and fading

my chest rises, falls, rises.

tomorrow will feel the same.

and the day after. and after.

i float in the arms of almost-death,

gentle mother of the in-between,

cradling my not-quite-corpse

in her patient palms. my body is

here but not here,

occupies the membrane between

heartbeats, where decisions

live and die (just like me)

in the dark i count

ceiling cracks like sheep, mapping

constellations in water stains that pulse with endings

i won't take (will i?)

every bottle cap and razor edge whispers

possibilities i refuse to hear

(some part of me is always listening)

whispers crawl up my spine,

build nests of maybes in my skull,

behind my eyes. they march through veins

seeking purchase:

 in lungs (counting breaths i choose to take)

in throat (where goodbyes stick like honey)

in hands (trembling with the weight of staying)