crossing a river on stones too far apart and the reader falls in

Put some blood on the page
how’d she get from this room to the street?
She wore a black leather mini and mules
she flipped a middle finger at the inner critic
she hit the edge of control and it fell into place
all she needed was a wrench and she’s not shy
If you lose the scent find the door where the muse lives
keep a line in the water to keep the nuts and bolts in line
what I’m trying to say to clarify
readers owe the writer nothing
steer clear until you have written the end
dead leaves drop I regret a lot
and your book was one of the best I’ve read.
Tell me: what is it about a passage that brings tears?
A letter, seventeen pages, single spaced
upside down in the stillness of vodka alley