She was my rhyme
in an unwritten poem
She was my time
which I had preserved
for special moments
She was my book
which I left on the table
unread
hoping to leaf through it someday
She was my notification
that popped up
and disappeared
She was my pen
which I always carried
in my shirt front pocket
yet never wrote with
The ink was still there
filled with emotions
that were never poured out
She was my history
which I heard from someone
but never dived deep into
She was the sweet wind
that I inhaled
and kept in my memory
only revisiting it
when I was alone
She was someone
whom I never discovered
never explored
She just happened
Like everything else.
NEPHART.COM 
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