Threshold

Unspoken words, half-believed,

still haunt this hollow room;

they walk across my chest at night

and leave no space to move.

Until I see you in my mind

returning as you went—

no reasons trembling on your lips,

no promise, no defence.

Just silence folding into mine,

just one unfinished breath…

Meet me at the threshold,

where leaving turns around;

come back without an answer,

come back without a sound.

Let your blinding silhouette

fill this empty room again;

stand there for one heartbeat—

I may learn to live again.

Perhaps a kiss, perhaps your hand

reaching beneath my skin,

undoing every life I knew

and teaching it to begin.

You look at me so recklessly,

searching my eyes for truth;

discovering yourself in me,

discovering us anew.

Your absence is a patient blade,

precise from night to night;

it wears me down in measured cuts

and slowly drains the light.

Yet every wound still faces the door,

every pulse repeats your name;

I am worn thin by your leaving,

but still willing to be remade.

Meet me at the threshold,

where leaving turns around;

you do not need an answer,

you do not need a sound.

Let your blinding silhouette

rise against the dark again;

cross the distance between us—

and let life begin again.