The door I never opened  (Marcella Boccia)

I traced its edges in the night,
where dust and silence intertwined,
a threshold bathed in silver light,
a passage locked inside my mind.
My fingers lingered on the grain,
a trembling thought, a breath held tight,
behind it—shadows called my name,
but I stepped back, escaped their sight.
Some doors, once touched, will not forget,
some truths, once known, will twist and bend—
so I walked on, though still I fret
for all I lost, for what won’t end.