The Scarf Folded in Quiet

Inside a wooden box, cracked at the seams,

I found the scarf, its colors dimmed by years—

faded blues, and pinks that bled to grays,

edges frayed like the promises I never kept.

She handed it to me once,

a sudden gift wrapped in silence.

I didn’t say thank you—

I couldn’t, not really.

I never felt deserving of that soft weight,

the careful stitch, the gentle hold.

Now it lies like a secret,

forgotten and folded, a breath I never exhaled.