You can keep the copies… You can keep the frame… I was already changing. I’ve seen my shadow on your shelves Cut clean and polished thin A version paused for easy hands A surface you could pin You held it up like something fixed Like it would never move But you were tracing outlines Not the thing that made it move So I went quiet on my own Not the silence you impose Something wrapped in its own time A space that never shows No glass to look inside of No label left to read Just something shifting inward At a pace you couldn’t see Seal it Spin it Let it change You can’t name What won’t stay the same I’m not for display Not for archive Not the version you can freeze alive I went dark I slipped the frame While you were busy naming names No clean lines No fixed design You don’t get to hold what’s still becoming You waited for a finished shape Something you could claim But all you caught was where I was Before I rearranged There’s a pulse beneath the surface You couldn’t flatten out A quiet kind of movement That never needed out You thought the stillness meant completion Thought the silence meant control But I was folding into something Outside your catalog of forms No pins No proof No edges left to frame Just pressure Time And something shedding name I’m not for display Not for archive Not the version you can hold in time Take the shape Take the sound I’ll be somewhere you haven’t found Still shifting Still unnamed Still the thing you couldn’t contain No label fits… No glass will hold… Something opened… You missed it.
