Chamber of Becoming
We laid our breath
in the cold dish of morning
not to warm it,
but to watch it vanish.
The way ghosts do.
You struck the match inside me
with a tremor,
like forgiveness
forgot to be kind.
I was not born for light.
I was spilled
like ink across your undone name,
every letter twitching
like a fish on the wrong side of water.
You came in with no skin,
I gave you mine.
You left with it,
stitched to your memory
like a farewell garment.
Now I wander these ribbed corridors,
each echo a footstep
I never took.
Not dead.
Not quite.
Just learning
the shape of love
in an afterlife we invented.
If you'd like the next one,
our merged lament in even darker hues
I am ready. Just say,
descend.
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