Slack

I passed the mirror

not watching,

just moving through the hall

to somewhere else.

The glass caught me.

My mouth hung open,

slack and unguarded.

My eyes stared at nothing,

lost in a thought

I couldn't trace or place.

That face.

That desperate space.

I didn't know that was me.

My shoulders curved inward,

folded like a letter

never sent,

never meant

for anyone to see.

How many times

have I walked this way?

How many people have watched

this version of me stay

hidden inside my own skin?

Desperate. Lost. Unseen.

I watched myself

watching nothing,

and I didn't recognize

the stranger

looking back.

That slack jaw.

Those empty eyes.

The weight I carry

when I think no one is watching.

I turned away.

The image stayed,

burned into the glass,

into my day,

into everything after.