half of me
stands in the doorway
lit and visible
hands open
as if the world is gentle
you see that part
the steady voice
the practiced smile
the way I hold myself
like I’ve already made peace

but the other half
lives behind the ribs
you can’t see
the rooms I keep locked
the storms that learned
to thunder without sound
the ache that hums
beneath calm skin

half of me
is sunlight on water
the other half
is the current
deep and pulling
strong enough
to carry entire histories
if you look close
you might notice
how my eyes hesitate
before they shine
how my laughter
sometimes arrives
a breath late

I am both
the surface
and the undertow
and loving me
means learning
to hold
what is offered in light
and what survives
in the dark