Unfolded

Writer: afterwords

She was the piece of me never meant to be unfolded,
never meant to be out and assault.
She was a piece of me, desperate to get a hold.
She was a piece of me I never knew I had to hold,
until I feel it in my bones,
to feel the memory of what was lost so close.
And yet she was a piece of me I want to be told,
“Let it go, for what matters is the one you drag along,
the one you chase and tag along.
For what matters is the farewell you never had.”
She was a piece of me no one knew lived there so long,
who was etching to be on here.
She was a piece of me engulfed in darkness,
beaten by days and swollen by nights,
mirrored by stars and glittered by the sun.
I wish to bury that piece and die in the dark,
for what matters is lost,
and the lost never came along.