Such a little thing, from oh so long ago; How can you still be hung up on this?

The truth of the matter
remains, to me, a mystery.
I am just a part of her history;
A little hiccup in the love of another,
smothered and then covered up
never to be heard from again.
And, since then,
she has sold her prose
that I was just a friend;
a pathetic little no one,
a annoying toy
to be destroyed
and disposed of.
A closed love.
A case to never open,
a file all corrupted and broken.
A story untold,
that feels oh so long ago;
a little moment
unimportant and small.

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