Empty chair

A loose thread is so easily undone 

I was once woven into your stories and sewn inside your heart

But our seams frayed 

And your words once threaded in desire now spin on a metal spool 

Am I just a pincushion in your basket 

You don’t finger my thimble anymore 

You prick your fingers on new needles

You won’t cut me into shape or bleed on my fabric 

I’m just another unfinished garment

Laying on the shoulders of an empty chair