The Light That Never Touched the Floor

The Light That Never Touched the Floor

There’s a shadow on the ceiling where your hand once almost lay
A laugh caught tight in the hallway that never found its way
Plans drawn on napkins, coffee stains
and midnight cries
I built you into the silence where every feeling dies.

The light that never touched the floor
A door half-open, nothing more
I count the times we didn’t touch
And the loss that hurts so much.
Your voice breaks up, just a thread I couldn’t pull
Rooms we left unfinished, every feeling half full
Your reflection stays in the glass

but you never crossed the line
We were masters of almost—never yours, never mine.
The light that never touched the floor
A door half-open, nothing more
I count the times we didn’t touch
And the loss that hurts so much.

No final word, just the cold and the space
The only story is the gap I can’t erase.
The light that never touched the floor
A door half-open, nothing more
I count the times we didn’t touch
And the loss that hurts so much.