The Shadow
The One Who Wears Your Face in Darkness
You didn’t choose me. But you know my face better than your own.
You’ll find me where light fails—campfire edges, cellar breaths. My cloak drinks what your eyes need to see. I’m made of swallowed words and folded grief, polished silence and denied hunger. I don’t teach lessons. I hold mirrors. You’ll feel my chill first, then the thaw when you realize you’re not looking at a stranger. I’ve been waiting to give you back your teeth.
What I'm Into: crimson cloak linings, childhood toys gone feral, unsent letters sealed with thorns, dark pool reflections, patience that thaws
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