Look at you down there, distorted and grotesque.
Sometimes small, other times stretching beyond imagination.
You seem so separate, so other, so dark.
Can you really be a part of me?
Yet you move when I move.
You follow me everywhere.
Or do I really follow you?
The lines and angles and curves resemble the me I see in the mirror,
But with a twist - bending, stretching, shrinking - moving in ways I cannot.
I like you better behind me, not stretched out crazily in my path.
Sometimes I wish you would just disappear.
But the only time I can't find you is in the dead of night, when the whole world turns to shadow.
A breath of light, and there you are, again
Beckoning me to follow you to places unknown or stalking me from behind.
You frighten me with your strangeness.
But maybe I would be less afraid if I got to know you a little.
If I understood your crazy angles and your secrets.
Could learn to love you if I stood still long enough to really see you?
If I asked, would you teach me to dance?