The Photo Frame

a dusty tired day
while clearing out her cupboard
with a wrench of heart
she saw.
a pink photo frame.
a photo with her and her best friend.
it stung it smarted
the resounding question of pray why?
under the frame
was a stack of drawings.
and that was all that was left
of a confused friendship.
she had stowed it away
she had pushed it away
but memories aren't hidden at leisure
especially painful ones.
it was all just paper
she tried convincing.
yet flashes of a life
which she had held so dearly
so close
and without warning had to let go.
five years was not the matter
the mere abruptness of departure was
a cool declaration
of the end of it all.
she looks at the frame again.
she sees how different it all was.
how different the friend had been.
and all was over now.
she made worthy to forget
the times they had cried and laughed together
the time they had shared.
the close sisterly bond.
it was all over.
there was only a stack of paper left.
best friend.
it wasn't a label. it was a promise.
a promise which was broken
without much ado.
well life couldn't stop.
people come and people go.
but she had believed she would stay.
she tells herself sternly.
she will forget.
she doesn't care.
but her heart whispers.
you won't.
and you do.