she folded me
like a letter
she no longer
needs to read
stuffed me
into the back
of the drawer
with the musty reminders
of days gone by
i told myself
she was saving me
for a day
when things had changed
when i would be important
or at least
not quite so bittersweet
when the marks had healed
and the memory
of my fingers
tracing her scars
like a well worn map
to places
we both had lived
and survived
was a comfort
not a trial
it is the little lies
we tell ourselves
that weigh us down
tiny anchors
tearing us apart