He lingers between memory and mirror.
Not quite gone,
not quite here.
A pulse in the background,
a whisper that once knew
more than most.
Not my guide,
not my partner,
but not a stranger either.
He connects me to the girl I used to be
and watches the woman I’ve become.
Safe space and storm.
Anchor and weight.
A reflection that cuts,
sometimes cradles.
He brings truth to the surface,
then leaves
before it settles.
We are a closed loop
that still breathes.
He doesn’t define me,
but his presence outlines the shape of me.
Sacred, perhaps,
never essential.
I don’t owe him the centre
or the softness I save for those in my heart.
But if he remains at the edges,
with honesty and clarity
maybe that is enough.
I might know where to place him.
I will let him stay.
reflections of an unquiet mind 