Thread

It's so hard to stay when everything in you is begging to run and the only thing holding you is a strand of thread. I have to stay, they won't let me go without a fight and I'm too tired to fight the people I love when all I ever wanted was a place to stay where 'we' weren't hanging by a thread. The 'we's have come and gone some have cut the thread and some threads I have cut. Each time it starts as a bond of cotton, silk, leather, spandex, each time it ends with a thread. They don't mean to and neither do I but we drift, the fabric stretches, and all that's left is the thread. This time I promised not to leave so I guess I have to stay and wait to resew what is left or watch someone else cut the thread. My dear friends mean the world to me. I wish I could give them more than just a thread.