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Crumbling String
March 13, 2019
Towing along a string, or perhaps it me
I trembled before a visage
Nylon slipped and fell
The string of the story is gone, and maybe the remnants don’t strangle me
But I can’t help feeling
That so much is still unwoven
The frayed edges and mismatched threads
Patches of pristine among darkened paths
So much deserving of inspection, dropped in the end
By entropy, and failed contemplations
A trail I wanted to follow into unknown landscapes and enchanting, futile culdesacs
i’m sorry I didn’t handle the string with more care
© Brittany L., Wolfforth, TX
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