Becoming Neither

Two cracked mugs sit side by side,

steam fading into gray afternoon.

I saw myself reflected in their chipped edges,

a shadow split, too worn to hold.

The look in their eyes—familiar,

somewhere between defeat and knowing—

a path I swore to never walk,

yet here, standing at its fork.

Fear twists under skin,

like a cigarette burn spreading,

something ugly and intimate,

a promise breaking down, folding.

Not them,

not that—

but something caught in between,

fractured glass I can’t put back,

and a silence swallowing what’s left.