String Theory

So strange the sensation missing you is.

Like walking through webbing of a spider

Like string- red string

It's odd.

It's warm, the feeling. So

I guess it's a good thing.

Guess it's just been a minute since I last felt such a sensation.

I know I've adopted an attitude toward things like this, one of constant

Critical thinking thinking ticking thinking that maybe it's not true & this isn't real, I just want it to be but look-

See this scarlet cord?

That I lie here tied in tangled in

With those of my clock still ticking

Pumping. Pulling both ends.

This line it starts at the tip of this knot ring round my pinky.

Where it crowns however is unknown and I fear the other finger is a broken one or rigor mortis stiff

See that strand?

This wire I tripped over, inevitably;

Again compulsion had me thrust my arms forwards, my hands hoping to grab something I can hang on to- to catch myself.

Yet still I am falling

Confused and curious.

Is that wind brushing my skin or spiders silk? It's

Strange these scars I have on my back.

Scratches that I've left he's left you've left on me.

A disfigurement made from a removal of wing I must have had,

In a past life.

Wings my soul couldn't keep while wearing this body.

If only I could remember the creature I used to be and if even then I still had this string- red string- strange

Missing you is you is

Not something I meant to do yet here I am-we are- I am- we were an intriguing coincidence of lust love and apprehension.

Interspersed light from fluctuating flames.

Warm we are now,

After reverting back the burning amber we were before we found friction.

In truth, I was dying.

Growing colder and colder

Looped lazily in loose string- red string before it suddenly got tighter.

Guess I should be grateful for that tension.

I think it was a good thing.