there is a shadow of me
hanging in the air between other people’s words
a sketch someone drew once
and then forgot to color in
you touch it sometimes
with your glances, with the way you form my name in your head
but you never stay long enough to see the edges

i can feel you thinking of me
in the wrong shape
the wrong colors
a dream you half-remember in the morning
where my face is blurred
and my voice comes out of someone else’s mouth

i want to reach into your thoughts
and rearrange the furniture
move the windows so you can see me
without the curtain
without the fog

but you keep carrying the idea of me
a folded paper you never open
afraid it might tear
or worse
that it won’t say what you want it to say