Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

timing, coordinates

i was born on the cusp, at the very edge of
some star fabric, and sometimes i realize that
i must have been born on the wrong side of it
and that maybe i’m not so clumsy after all,
maybe those times i stammer, trip over the air,
second guess my memory, or stare off into space,
it’s because everything in my world is just a few
moments off, either too early or too late
maybe my existence was slightly misplaced

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: cusp

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