each one a mirror, each one a ghost

i have wandered through shadows, seeking faces painted in hues of familiarity - each one a mirror, each one a ghost. was it fate or folly that drew me to those who could not hold the trembling weight of my vulnerability? for though i ache to be seen, to be known in the marrow of my being, the thought of such intimacy feels too much for my tender grounds.

could i bear to let someone breathe the essence of me? to press their hands against the quiet pulse of my hidden truths? to hear the unspoken hymns of my heart, raw and sacred? i wonder, for my touch feels like scissors - sharp, unintentional - leaving piercing edges carve wounds into hands that reach for me.

i linger in the dreamscape of longing, safe in the delicate pursuit, where vision dances and reality fades. but when the chase dissolves and the veil lifts, will i unfold like a letter sealed with longing or will i remain a locked garden, its key lost in my own fear?

— Lux