Quilt

I'm standing on the cliff.
But the winds of change don't come;
They're delaying me, shielding me.
I don't know why I'm here,
Or how I got here.

Should I jump?
was that the plan?
I sit down, nervous.
I pick at the patchwork quilt that is my mind.

Uh oh

I tug too hard on a certain piece;
The square with a drawing of a heart.
The thread loosens,
Unravels.

The pieces scatter,
Drift down my throat to my tongue.
I fear them slipping, being exposed.
They slip between my lips.

I bolt up and open my mouth,
Scream,
And let the pieces fly.

I jump from the ledge;
Falling.
Flying.
Letting release consume me.

Where do I go now?