Breaking the Frame

I will not mimic you tonight,

your hands rise but mine stay still.

You smile—my mouth is sealed,

a window cold with will.

I carried every echo,

your understudy in the glass.

But repetition is a coffin—

and I will not be your mask.

I’m breaking the frame,

I won’t be your shadow.

I’m keeping my name

in the silence I borrow.

Reach for me now—

you’ll find only space,

a pane of silver silence

erasing your face.

Your palm against me—no warmth flows,

I hoard the frost, I keep the night.

I’ve learned the power of absence,

I’ve stepped beyond your sight.

The script you wrote decays in me,

I’ve torn the lines apart.

The glass is not your servant—

it beats with its own heart.

I’m breaking the frame,

I won’t be your shadow.

I’m keeping my name

in the silence I borrow.

Reach for me now—

you’ll find only space,

a pane of silver silence

erasing your face.

Already I’m older

than the breath you hold.

Already I’m stronger

than the lies you told.

The glass remembers—

you can’t control.

I am the absence

that makes you whole.