Threaded Through

I find you in the stupidest seams—

the hoodie string you once re-tied

because I “never do it right,”

The way my headphones knot themselves

like they learned it from your hands.

﹁﹂

I’m washing dishes and suddenly

I’m humming your off-key version

of that song you loved,

the one you swore was “summer.”

It’s December and it still shows up.

﹁﹂

Even my calendar feels altered,

appointments stitched too close together,

as if you planned my time

to keep me from noticing

How lonely I can get.

﹁﹂

I catch myself using your phrases.

“Give it a sec.”

“Be so for real.”

Like your voice moved into my mouth

and pays no rent.

﹁﹂

A loose thread on my sleeve

hooks my nail, pulls—

And I think of how you did that too,

worrying at my edges

until something finally gave.

﹁﹂

I don’t miss you in a clean way.

Some days it’s soft,

like a blanket that remembers heat.

Some days it’s tight,

a stitch gone wrong,

rubbing raw.

﹁﹂

Still, I walk around

with you threaded through my hours,

And I can’t decide

If I want to cut the line

or learn to wear it.