So thin, this filament between us—
a spider’s sigh,
a breath of light
that binds my pulse to yours.

Yet in its infinitesimal grace,
a violence sleeps:
it cuts the grooves of longing
deeper than a knife.

One strand, no thicker than a wish,
bears all the weight
of every unspoken word,
every ghost of touch.

And when it strains—
(oh, how it strains)—
it scars the soul’s soft tissue,
leaving maps of ache
where only we can trace
the borders of our breaking.

Still… I would not sever it.
For in this terrible, slender tether,
I am alive.
I am undone.
I am yours.