It’s hard to be known.

I gave them memories.

When their expiration came,

they left quietly,

as if I had imagined them.

Published myself in fragments,

called it presence.

But time edits everything.

The version of me they kept

is already obsolete.

I won’t be remembered.

I won’t be recognized.

The river takes what I say

and crushes it into their streams.

Mirror, oh mirror.

you’re still on that dusty wall.

Who’s sitting on the chair?

You don’t answer anymore.

I look for myself too late.

The chair is empty,

or maybe it’s a shadow

that learned to sit still.

The river moves faster now.

Erase it all.

Let it reach the ocean

where names dissolve easily.

And somewhere below,

deep enough that light forgets,

another version of me drifts,

breathing, faintly,

a life no one will ever know.