The Thread

Its too thin to be seen
But I can feel its pull
It pulls at my skin, my stitches
And it feels wonderful
Like heaven
No, like home
My wounds gape
They are as old as they'll ever be
They are fresh
I stand at the edge of the cliff
And it pulls me
I can't wait to fall
I can't wait to lose, to let go
The shroud of my sorrow
Poured over my skin
Hot molten amorphous,
Burning it and sticking to it
Burning and sticking
That finally froze, yet sticking
Is coming to life again
I wish it would melt soon
Melt and be flown off me
Burn me and leave me
Pull me, drop me, leave me...