Talking to my echo
Is like throwing light
Into a broken mirror
My voice comes back
In pieces
A syllable here
A breath there
A memory I didn’t mean
To wake
The room bends
The air flickers
Even the silence
Seems to lean closer
I speak again
And the echo scatters
Rearranging itself
Into versions of me
I almost recognize
By the time it settles
I’m not sure
If I’m hearing my voice
Or the one
I’ve been avoiding