I know

I know the difference between a reader and a taker.
I know the quiet hands that lift without asking.
And I know the weight of words that are lived,
not stitched together in borrowed tones.

Take them, if you must.
They will not carry what you hope.
A shadow is not the fire.
A mirror is not the flame.

This voice lives where your imitation cannot follow.
You can copy the words,
but never the soul that gave birth to them.

I see the footsteps you leave,
always starting at the front door,
never daring to linger too long.

And so I have to tell you:
I see you.
I feel you.
I know.
I know.