Saturday

Frayed edges wear and tear,

One thread exposed

Is a threat to the others.

Grab the end and pull,

Unravel them all to see what’s left.

Musky scented rooms are empty,

Objects within start to fade,

One

By

One they move back

To the most hidden corners of my memory.

Your face is like a puzzle,

Only not all the pieces fit,

Colors lose their luster,

Blend to make one tone unnamable.

I am cold.

The length of time is unsettling,

I grapple with the idea

Of a continuous loss,

Struggling to hold onto the

End

Of your voice cracked

And shrill

I still hear it.

The one thread materializes,

My needle sharp and skilled

Begins to sew back together

As best as it can,

The frayed edges of a picture.

Hiding beneath my work

My trembling begins to subside,

Warm again I reminisce

Until once more,

A loose end

Catches my eye.

Written March 2010. Alaina Perez.