Heavy weight of freight car trains presses down like
Winter winds, like woolen blankets, like damp foreheads,
Akin to your late-night words.
Sometimes I think I hear you on the muffled line,
Strangling your words—oppressing love, hate
But then I realize that you’re right in front of me.
Shadows never really go away.
They creep around surfaces. Fluid and agile, they slip through cracks
They slip through time, space.
They risk detection.
I tell you every day you’re disappearing.
Your shadow sticks. No need to sew it back on.
You wish it wasn’t so dark, messy.
You wish it didn’t make you so fragile.
Your other half, your coup de grâce.
When life fades, you merge.
You were always your darker twin.