Pages Left Unturned

You mentioned it casually, that book I forgot,

a weight on my conscience, a tangled knot.

Its spine cracked with stories, yellowed and torn,

each page is a promise that I’ve left worn.

A borrowed treasure, tucked in my mind,

reminders of laughter, the memories entwined.

In the margins, your words, like ghosts in the night,

whispering truths that now seem out of sight.

Guilt wraps around me like the cover so soft,

for the stories we shared that were lost in the soft.

I’m left here in silence, a book left to dust,

wondering if you think of me, or if it’s just rust.