a split sense of self
sometimes i stay in the darkest corners of the room,
between the sliver of space where my two shadows meet.
here, they blend into a singularity, a fusion of my competing
superlatives. this is where the light does not reach me,
where it cannot expose me for my incongruences. in this
i am but two sides of the same coin—you flip me to find
my tail ambiguous in value, my head as blank as cold static.
but conforming is what i do best, and i contort my body to fit
into the smallest corners, fleeing to my refuge with abandoned
rays nipping at my heels. luminous laughter stalks my trail,
taunting me relentlessly as i play this inane game of coin flip
over and over, each time desperate for a different outcome.
my shadows place their bets as to when i’ll brave the light but
odds are, this seclusion will claim me before the coin lands.
By Natasha Lim
Natasha Lim is a student from Singapore. She writes poetry and prose, and is an editor for the Interstellar Literary Review. In her spare time, she enjoys drinking copious amounts of coffee and reading books that make her cry.