She speaks to me silently
but I know what she says;
each unspoken word
felt through me;
known by mood,
known by her presence,
known by being “me”
and “not me”
both at the same time.
A shadow self -
a second-self within -
not wholly me,
but me differently.
Sometimes she is silent
but sometimes
she embraces being “us”
completely.
But then she can be driven out,
driven into hiding,
driven into fear,
by the pressure of others
for me to be
only what they see I am -
what they presume
I should be -
packed and wrapped
by a label “man”.
