On the Edge

I stood on the edge—skin close to the line,
a pulse in the dark saying “cross it this time.”
Who names the border, who calls it the end?
I taste it, I hide it, I play and pretend.

I’m split in directions—spill it or stay,
to say it out loud or just look away.
So I dress it in words that don’t feel like home,
I hide in the rhythm, I hide in the tone.

We blur it, we glaze it, we soften the truth,
we move like it’s nothing, like nothing to lose.
We dance on the wire, we lean into it—
and somewhere inside… I’m into it.

I like it on the edge, on the edge, on the edge,
feel it in my chest like a pull in my breath.
In the dark, in the dark, I confess—
I come alive where it’s razor-thin.

On the edge, on the edge, let it bend,
I don’t say it out loud, I pretend—
but under my skin, under my breath,
I like it… I like it on the edge.

I treat it like weather that moves through me,
storms in my blood, then clarity.
I don’t control it, I let it arrive,
I stand in the current and feel it alive.

Noise on the screen, all the heat in the air,
it passes around me, I’m still right here.
What lives inside me rewrites the sky—
today there’s rain, tomorrow it’s light.

I open the space, I loosen my grip,
I breathe through the pull, I ride through the shift.
The line is still glowing, I lean and I blend—
and somewhere inside… I’m shaping the end.

I like it on the edge, on the edge, on the edge,
feel it in my chest like a pull in my breath.
In the dark, in the dark, I confess—
I come alive where it’s razor-thin.

On the edge, on the edge, let it bend,
I don’t say it out loud, I pretend—
but under my skin, under my breath,
I like it… I like it on the edge.

If it rains, let it soak my skin,
if it burns, I’m breathing it in.
Close to the line, I feel the heat,
soft on my lips, sharp in my teeth.

What’s inside turns into the scene,
I move the air, I bend what I see.
Slow in my body, deep in my head—
I make my sky while I’m on the edge.

I like it on the edge, on the edge, on the edge,
feel it in my chest like a pull in my breath.
In the dark, in the dark, I confess—
I come alive where it’s razor-thin.

On the edge, on the edge, let it bend,
I don’t say it out loud, I pretend—
but under my skin, under my breath,
I like it… I like it on the edge.

I like it… I like it on the edge.