The Weight of Paper

A dollar bill crumpled, its edges worn thin,

rough against fingers, like secrets within.

Creases hold whispers of places I've been,

a last-minute choice, where need meets a grin.

I recall the store, the indecision and dread,

a longing for comfort, yet unsure what’s ahead.

With each tear of fabric, a moment now spent,

a piece of my journey, a story unbent.