Take my name upon your tongue,
taste the syllables of who I am,
and let me speak your titles back to you
until we forget where I end
and where you begin.

In the quiet heat of afternoon,
we traded selves like secrets.
I looked into your eyes and saw my face;
you spoke my name and heard your own.

If the world should ask who we were,
we will tell them we were a single soul,
split cleanly down the middle,
breathing in tandem,
living in the echo of each other’s skin.