I’ve slipped.
I know I’ve slipped.
I haven’t fallen,
only slipped.
I didn’t touch the ground,
exactly.
I only put my hands down
to brace myself.
This isn’t the first time.
I don’t think
it will be the last time.
Every time
is strangely familiar,
yet shocking,
and entirely different.
Every time reminds me
that this might be the last time—
the last time I remember
that it happened,
before I can no longer remember
what happens at all.
20 October 2026