torn in two on nights that shed
enough moonlight

torn in two staring at reflections
and thinking they’re mine

torn in two checking window panes
for breathless signs of life

torn in two reading underground ads
and remaining underwhelmed

torn in two finding the fine line
and crossing it anyway

torn in two being the mad woman
in the attic, and the one that’s not

torn in two lying here, nerves exposed,
not knowing who to be.