Imagined Companions

In the corner of my closet, shirts lie untouched,

each piece a whisper of a twin I never knew,

a phantom in the photos—one face hidden,

a life divided, splitting like threads at the seam.

Today I stumbled upon an old snapshot,

where two faces meld into a moment, yet mine,

remains solitary, echoes of a laughter once shared,

as if the world wanted one instead of two.

Empty shoes by the door, waiting, always waiting,

for someone who never walked this line with me—

in dreams, I reach for hands that fade, unclaimed,

as if reality itself spins in absence,

and loneliness becomes the only twin I know.