Untitled (by choice)

I went from peak to valley in less than a day,

From your cherished to your choice of lay.

Your words spun gold, now they just bite,

Once basking in sun, now lost to the night.

Was I just a bookmark in your grand tale,

A temporary port in your stormy gale?

You flipped through my pages, eager and swift,

But my story for you was just a thrift.

In your library of conquest, I was but a leaf,

Wilting in silence, nursing my grief.

And there, the tale ends, not with a bang but a sigh,

A footnote in your volumes, under a grey sky.