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Shadow Self

By: Maggie Emerson

Art by: Victoria Tan














Deltas of flesh formed by the tide of my tears

Salt reservoirs pool in my ears like sediment

I tend to lie down when I cry

Or maybe I tend to cry when I lie down

Hung on the door is the strangest portrait

We move in tandem, she and I

Her pupils stretch and deepen as she stares


I should recognize her


I feel her familiar despair.


On nights when sweat pours from my body

And the bedsheets coil around my limbs 

She watches me thrash, slick and restless 

She pierces my dreams with

Feather-light fingers encircling my wrist

Each time she leads me to the mountain’s base 

My feet are bare, the ground coated in snow


I should feel the cold’s ache


I feel nothing.


Dense trees loom, circling us in shadows

She knows the path but I cannot fathom it

So I trail behind her willingly, desperately

Mottled daylight scatters in front of us

As we climb the sun descends

Bleeding into the ridges ahead each day

Her mouth splits into a soundless shriek 


I should understand her fury


I feel only her sorrow.


An indigo shroud above us, stitched with stars 

Perforated by the dark contours of unfamiliar peaks 

Surrounding the summit I intimately know 

Each night, the cliffs sing softly to us

A lone set of footprints trailing the two of us

She drifts past me, tears seeping from her eyes

Tears seeping from my own


I should stop her before she reaches the edge


I let us go.

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