Who holds the thread between us tight?
Who tugs the cord in dead of night?
Who pulls us back when steps are made,
To turn away, to let love fade?

Is it time, or fate, or something more?
A whisper scratched into the floor?
A song that plays when no one sings?
A touch that lingers without wings?

You pull, I pull, we slip, we stray,
Yet something never fades away.
A tether not of hand, but soul—
The pull of something we once called whole.