Kara Lynn Amiot I gave you my heart in a burlap bag There I was, in the palm of your hands, fragile but safe, no need to fret the trust. That was until you began to tug and tug, finding one angry thread, the weak link, the loose hold on the rest of me. You tug, and the unravel begins, the spiral of panic-reactions you waited for, hands holding tight that suddenly let go. It was the dance canon unfolding, on repeat, the weave unraveling at the seams. The one lonely thread of me all of my fibres that twisted out from one, that knotted and looped into every complexity of my being. That was all that it took to leave me ripped open and spilling apart, exposed inside from out, completely undone.
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