The Break Point

Old letters, tied with clumsy string,

a lifetime of remembering.

I found a band, a pale, worn thing,

stretched thin, it didn't want to sing

or hold. It was translucent, white,

from years of fading, out of sight.

I pulled it hard, too far, too fast,

it had no strength, it couldn't last.

It snapped. A sting against my skin,

a red line where the break had been.

Just like that, the tension gone,

an unexpected, sharp red dawn.

And the letters, scattered on the floor,

not held together anymore.