A pillow is a pillow
and not an extension of you;
a shirt is a shirt
and not a reminder of the ways you encompass me;
a ring is metal and rock,
not an upside down promise;
or words just a cluster of letters
and never your love—
because what are words in the grand scheme of things
but blankets a little too short,
a little too thin?
What good are threads if they come loose, unraveling
everything?
Here I come undone.
Here we fray.