Masters tales · Miscellaneous · Poetry


It hangs just covering part of my hand
Tickling and annoying.
I watch it for a time and then I can’t help it.
Pinching it I pull.
At first nothing seems wrong,

It unravels…
That piece of string becomes a rope.
It twists up in my hands
Knots and plaits
Until I can’t see what it was.

I had to though
I had to pick at the scab
Just in case I was healed.
What if I had and it had come off cleanly?
A clean break.

But it didn’t.
Instead I have a knot of our lives
And somewhere we sit
Our backs together, staring as the sun sets,
Wanting to stop but unable to.


Inspired by the daily prompt – unravel

4 thoughts on “Unravel

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