Sometimes, When it’s Cold


A lie is a pull of the single thread
That unravels that old, trusty sweater.
Like bones broken in spiral
When an arm is twisted,
My faith in you has to be knitted
Back to its original shape

Like old breaks and ratty, repaired clothes
The chance of damage to every fiber of myself
Is the gamble I take with everyday use
Because I have a hard time throwing things away

I still have concert tees from 15 years ago
Once black, now faded like polaroids of my father…

But I fear even in your absence
The chance to let you even remotely
Close to my clothes, my bones,
My heart, my lungs, my soul

It’s asking for my life to unravel again
My body still aches where the bone calloused.

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