We move like two shadows
Mirrored but mismatched.
You chase the fire
as I thirst for water.

You call it passion;
I call it survival.

A doorway stretches between us
that neither of us can name
without breaking something.

And yet, every time we meet there,
We collide
in that quiet, impossible question:

Why is it that you are running to
what I am running from?

Maybe this is the shape of us.