Looped in Nothing

It slipped through fingers, caught the light,

a twisted wire holding onto air.

Bent out of shape,

sitting in a crack on the floor.

No papers clipped, no purpose now,

a silent witness spinning slow.

I watched it curl and uncurl,

a little metal snake with nowhere to go.

It’s funny how such a small thing

can hold no weight but still fall apart,

like a promise made and forgotten,

loose ends slipping from the heart.