One Pull Away

The thread has been loose for two days now,

and I'm terrified to touch it.

It's on my favorite shirt,

the one I wear when I want to feel

like someone who has it together,

and now there's this single strand

hanging from the seam near my collar,

and I know if I pull it,

if I just reach up and give it one small tug,

the whole thing might come undone.

I've been wearing it anyway,

trying to pretend I don't notice it,

trying to move carefully

so my collar doesn't catch on anything,

so the thread doesn't catch on my finger

and remind me that everything

is held together by something fragile,

something that could give way

at any moment.

This morning I caught myself

reaching for it without thinking,

my hand moving toward my neck

like it was automatic,

like my body wanted to unravel

what my mind was trying to keep intact.

I stopped myself.

Instead I sat very still

and felt the thread against my skin,

felt it move with my breathing,

felt how easily it could be pulled,

how easy it would be

to let it all come apart.

The shirt still fits.

The thread is still just one thread.

But I know what's underneath,

know that everything is one pull away

from falling apart,

and I'm terrified

that one day I won't be able to stop myself

from reaching.