Broken Threads
I held the thread too tightly knowing it
would snap the way silence snaps when
words left unsaid fill the room like a
heavy fog pressing against the walls that
once held us steady—but even walls can
betray when cracks growing like veins pulsing
with all the things we buried beneath
smiles.
I told myself the ground was firm—that roots
grew deep enough to hold us—but roots can
rot unseen causing what seemed solid to
crumble into nothing—just soil slip-
ping between fingers leaving me unable to
grasp what was never whole to begin with.
Did you feel it too? The weight of
words we didn’t say that
climbed vine-like always gasping for
air in the void that was between us or
did you think silence was safe as
a shield against the flood that
waited to break the way rivers break the
banks—forgetting the course they once followed?
I wonder now as the thread
hangs loose in my hand, frayed at
both ends if it was meant to
snap all along as if
the tension was the only
thing keeping us together, or if it was
only ever a knot concealing the pieces that
were never whole—waiting to
untangle itself in the quiet we
mistook for peace.
WoPoLi 
Leave a comment