What Unravels

I noticed it this morning on my sleeve—

a loose thread that I can't seem to leave

alone. I've been trying to tie it back,

trying to stop the unraveling attack,

but it just pulls the seam more,

and now I can't stop anymore.

The thread catches light.

I'm picking at it day and night,

unable to stop even though I should,

sitting here like I'm made of wood,

focused entirely on this one small thing

because if I can fix this, maybe I can bring

order to something,

fix something.

But I can't.

The seam gets worse. I can't

make it right.

The thread keeps coming, and the light

keeps catching it, and I keep picking

without meaning to, my fingers sticking

to this small disaster,

like it's the only real thing, like it's faster

than everything else falling apart,

like it's where I should start.