She stalks behind me, this shadow
self; casts dark edges along the
bridges I cross, hide under, burn.
She learns my symmetry, synch
-ronizes her heartbeat to mine,
finds me even in the brightest
light, fights for space, stretches
long, boxes at my shaded song.
I have a little shadow, you see.
She’s fragile, flailing,
falling. She’s me.
Written for Carry On Tuesdays prompt:
Simple. Beautiful. Sad. Perfect.
So sweet, De.
I like the line “She’s fragile, flailing” a lot. Very nice.
Ahhh… what Mosk said, De. Nice job! (I wanna box her ears for ya!) :-]
“She learns my symmetry,”
I really love this, it feels super, “zen,” to me, De! Beautiful.
Phew…I…well, I was gonna say I love it, but that’s not exactly right. I think what it truly is, is jealousy. I wish I had written that! *chuckles* I can already tell that you are going to be one of those poets that make me feel like just giving up and applying to Hallmark or something. ;p
So kind of you to say, KC. I know that feeling well, which means your comment has all the more made my day. Heading over to your end of the world now, where I am certain you shall be proved wrong. 😉
Thanks so much, all.