Fabric

There is a tear in the fabric

Worn and loose, threads baring a gap in the familiar sheets

Frayed seams flipping

With every breath and breeze, taking in air and sky and sun

Warm and fresh-smelling

There is no need for stitching, the still-woven yards while unaffected

Sustain a small marking

From a point, where every consolation took a sharp turn

"Torn" poetry by Roshan James, Kitchener Waterloo

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