edge of the page

there
illusion
the edge of the page
another word fell
(I saw it) shifting slightly
as a fiddle to a back
before it disappeared
as longing slipped
into (the place of) dreams
where lines
are met again
with what comes next
(of words) I begged to go
should I feel more
than this remorse
(more than sorrow) for their passing
as one was chosen
I to choose
and why would I regret
the past (I never passed into)
held against this precious page
awaits a sweeter song

lines to press
each other
a fiddle (to believe)