Sometimes I feel like your story book
The pages that you flip open on bad days
To relive some sort of angst only
to inevitably close and breathe a sigh of relief
Knowing it is not your reality anymore
And I am not real enough to you
To inquire about the sequels
The ones you haven't read
But are drenched in the aftermath of your actions

Living, breathing consequence

Do you believe that I've forgiven you
Because you've forgiven yourself?
Because you are better now for someone else?
Do you think I remember you fondly
Because I am always so kind?
And don't consider that, like you changed, maybe
I have too?

In a wave of nonchalance,
You ask me how I am doing

I want to ask if someone asked you to reach out
Someone who knows me and may have guessed
That I've had one of my fragile days
And knows that I might be more susceptible
To grace

And I say
I've been better since you ripped out my pages
But I still have days when I wonder
If you would have ever cared enough
To do more than borrow me
And return me here
To this dusty shelf