Still, My Mind is Shadow

I live in half worlds,
neither closed nor incomplete.
I dilly dally on my way,
to Somewhere or No Place,
toward the ships at port.
I feel at once,
myself and other.

What say your theories to that?

I am born to be
yet may I not just fade?
I was born grey
and grey I shall stay.

I can put on
my pretty red party dress;
the airs and graces,
or the moans of a whore?

I do not decide to stop.
cannot rest
but between the words,
between these altered states,
I can remain.

Fey, am I,
changeling they say.
Relic of a past all but forgotten.

All is mine,
and nothing with it too.

Nothing to it,
this trick of mine,
to be and not to be.

Nothing to it, really,
just to split myself in threes or fours.

Do your prefer me in pieces,
diced or sliced?

Sometimes I am the tree, the rainbow,
the laundry swinging on the line.

Someone is playing me,
rough hands across a slick white line:
I cannot tell the black from blank
in this dim light.

My questions and your answers
could never fit.
My memories and your realities
would never sit.

So I dance around my nightmares
and I stare into an ache,
until I see it turn from bruise
to tender scar.

These special moments that we shared,
I will forget,
I must.