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
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Author:
Anthony Hanible (
Offline) - Published: June 7th, 2026 02:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: Anthony Hanible, ms.divine
Offline)
Comments1
Talking to one's echo seems an act of reflection itself whether broken or not. Lovely imagery and metaphor here. Well done my friend
Thanks
Most welcome Anthony
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