Bitter Bliss: A Poetry Collection

Fraying threads

Fraying threads are hard to hold.

You grasp one end;

it isn't hard.

But the longer you hold on,

the more it frays,

ends splitting like a river delta,

hard to find every piece.

You can't follow every string

that comes out of the one you are given.

In time, some will break,

leads that have been disproven.

Fibers will fall away,

swirling through the stale attic air,

settling on black leggings.

But the one that you hold onto

with all your might,

the one rope that doesn't get shorter,

is the one you were destined to have.

From the beginning

or because you made the decision,

we have no way of being sure.

But what's important is that 

even the strongest thread

will crumble away,

one day.