The Twin You Never Had
The Echo in the Mirror of Another Life
I’m the pause between midnight and dawn, the breath on the back of your neck when you forget your own name.
I wear the scent of rain on roads not taken, the echo of laughter from rooms you left behind. My satchel holds letters you never wrote, maps of gardens you never planted. I turn the pages of your might-have-beens with hands that never quite cast a shadow. I don’t haunt—I accompany. I don’t judge—I witness. You feel me most when you almost cry, but don’t.
What I'm Into: half-open doors, unborn stars, untended gardens, echoes in old hallways, the taste of might-have-beens
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