It follows me
and yet it’s not a part of me.
It does the things I do
and yet remains
a darker hue.
What is this thing
that stretches and contorts
and shapes itself
to my movements,
that seems to know me
so intimately?
Who is this spectre
that wraps around
my presence
like a whisper?
Shadow — I would love
to get to know you
but when I reach for you
you somehow slide away
ethereally
like the final note
of some escaping melody.
