Scorpio Rising

She lost her keys. Vanessa was frantic, pacing, but I closed my eyes— and saw. "They’re in the garden, beneath the jasmine," I said. She blinked. “How did you know?” I said nothing. But I’ve always known— when she lies, when she leaves, when another man’s scent follows her home. I dream it first, then watch it unfold. Before thunder, I feel it in my spine. Before love dies, I mourn it in my sleep. Who am I? I am a Scorpio Rising. Born in the hour when the Sun rose behind the Scorpion’s tail— where shadows begin to stir and secrets beg to be seen. I walk between veils, dance on the edge of knowing. The underworld breathes through me. I taste truths before they leave your tongue. She looked at me once, after another truth surfaced from her silence, and whispered, “Who are you, really?” I smiled— “I’m the one who feels you even when you’re gone.” I am intuition wrapped in flesh, a storm dressed in calm. I smell the smoke before the match is struck. I watch your reflection in water not yet poured. I see the cracks you hide behind your mascara smile. I rule endings. And beginnings. I am Hades with a human heartbeat, the god who never sleeps— because even dreams fear me. Now she sleeps beside me, but I wonder: Which man’s name did she whisper in her dreams? What door will she unlock tomorrow? Will she ever tell me the truth— before I already know? Or is she dreaming too… of the man who reads futures in silence?