I was born half, parallel and unwhole. I do not know whose eyes I see in the foggy bathroom mirror. You wrap your thunderstorm hands around the hollow of my throat and tell me I am double. I hold colliding galaxies within me, they clap like war cries in the cups of my palms. I hold universes in the space between my blinded eyes. I was born twice, howling like a sea at storm. You cannot hold the infinity I kiss into your empty spaces.