Chamber of Becoming

We laid our breath in the cold dish of morning not to warm it, but to watch it vanish. The way ghosts do. You struck the match inside me with a tremor, like forgiveness forgot to be kind. I was not born for light. I was spilled like ink across your undone name, every letter twitching like a fish on the wrong side of water. You came in with no skin, I gave you mine. You left with it, stitched to your memory like a farewell garment. Now I wander these ribbed corridors, each echo a footstep I never took. Not dead. Not quite. Just learning the shape of love in an afterlife we invented. If you'd like the next one, our merged lament in even darker hues I am ready. Just say, descend.