It’s the past that crafts
your origami heart.
Fold the page into a shape,
that makes you who you are.
Once folded it never quite goes back,
lines on the white, darkened to black.
You come out again from the dark
and I open the door.
Tear it up you shout
so you see it no more
I actually wrote this 4/5 years ago, dug it up the other day reading through old poems.