You built a bridge out of hollow glass,
And beckoned me with a gilded hand.
I walked the miles, watching seasons pass,
On a path you never meant to stand.

You spoke in riddles of "someday" and "soon,"
A master of the soft, poetic lure,
Tethering my tides to a paper moon,
While your own heart stayed cold and sure.

I was the anchor; you were the kite,
Drifting just high enough to keep me small.
You kept me reaching through the lonely night,
Just to ensure Id be there for the fall.

But eyes grow clear when the fever breaks,
And truth tastes bitter on a weary tongue.
Im tallying up all the long mistakes,
And the heavy songs that I should not have sung.

You wanted the warmth, but not the flame.
You wanted the win, but not the game.
You kept the door ajar but locked the room,
Leaving my hope to wither in the gloom.

I am not a harbor for a wandering ghost,
Nor a trophy for a shelf youll never dust.
I refuse to be the one who loves the most,
In a kingdom built on simulated trust.

So I am stepping off the bridge today,
And letting the glass shatter in the tide.
Ill take my heart and walk the other way,
With nothing left to prove and naught to hide.

The silence you left is no longer a void,
But a wide, open field where I can finally run.
The "us" that you whispered was only a ploy-
And I am finished being the one undone.

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Daedalan, in the year 1003 AF.