The Unraveling Spool

A snagged seam, that familiar, irritating rip.

I dug for the mending kit, a slow, deep dip

into the forgotten.

And there it was, dark blue, a plastic core,

half-empty, what was left was more

than just a mess. A bird's nest,

a furious, hopeless, tangled test.

The end, it buried itself somewhere deep,

a stubborn secret it refused to keep

from itself. A knot, so tight, so small,

that pulling only made the whole thing fall

into a tighter snarl, a bitter ball.

I picked at it, my thumbnail blunt and sore.

This thread, it knew its purpose, knew its war.

It wasn't meant to fix a coat today.

It only meant to twist itself away.