Ripped out pages

there are parts of my story you’ll never read, chapters that ended in silence and need pages once written in ink that ran deep, now torn from the binding i couldn’t keep some held the laughter, some carried the pain, some had the moments i can’t explain i ripped them out slowly, line after line, trying to leave what was never mine but traces still linger in words i don’t say, in thoughts that still find me at the end of the day and even without them, the story goes on— with gaps in the plot and pieces all gone but maybe those pages weren’t meant to stay, not every part of me was built to remain so i keep turning forward, though some things feel lost— writing new chapters… no matter the cost.