Of the angle who isnt

This night lost I am in a memory unwished, yet persisting
Despite the time lost, melt since it happened and yet not
Inspite the altercation, the not so revenge sweet turned bitter
After the storm and the calm that hit the either
In memory of her, apart seven seas in physique and psyche, both
Neither a memory not as about what happened and not, nor
An afterthought of what could, or should, have not been done
True, sad I am for what is beneath and behind can be not undone
Yet this night is no leaf of memoir ripped apart from life mine
Rather is about her, she who is seven seas apart and yet not
Of all she had seen though deserving better than any such
I shed not a tear for any of it either fair or otherwise
nor is it a sweet emotion for what has been tough on her
A thought it is, difficult to express, that she deserved it not
For despite what passed through and what hasn’t been not said
She has been and will be the angel, who hasn’t been.