we spun threads of truth with our kisses, tween our hearts
and though I parted from you, my gold thread was still pulled taught
but yours grew slack with loneliness or anger, I do not pretend to know which
either or, the shine fell away, it could not hold up to this, decay
I plucked my thread lightly, to see if it still coiled with your own, but there was a snag
it broke your thread and now I am sitting in a memory of a garden, holding very pretty strings
That are no longer connected to anything