Edges

I'll say I live
on the edge of adventure.
Not really.

I live through you—
for a while,
if that’s allowed.

You can’t move me.
You’re a margin
I write inside.

If you couldn’t love me,
I’d still love myself.
If you couldn’t like me,
I’d like myself.
If you couldn’t stand me,
I’d stand for myself.

You could hate me—
hate me hard—
and I’d still be alight.

That’s what I tell myself.
So far,
it’s only theory.