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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?
Copyright ©
Chanda Katonga
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