I am the name you never said,
The one who slips from bed to bed,
The favoured book you never read,
A constant doubt within your head.
I am the cross upon your door,
The creeping root beneath the floor,
The tortured dress you never wore,
An icy vein that will not thaw.
I am the word you never spoke,
The mirror’s face behind its smoke,
The frozen time behind night’s cloak,
A laugh too late to catch the joke.
I am the time you never planned,
The days that slipped out of your hand,
The rusted icon on the stand,
An effigy on broken land.
I am the cry at dead of night,
The splintered dream lost in mid-flight,
The falling bird that knows its plight,
A final line you could not write.
I am the bridge you could not cross,
The path below grown old with moss,
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