Work Text:
Strings
Strings of memories
Strings of love
Strings of different colours and shades
Strings that help me find a way
All around
On the ceiling
On the bed
Even on my chair
Strings
Strings of memories that I forget
Strings that are strained
Strings that are mostly shades
They are on the floor
All round me
and in the cupboards
Strings
Strings of love that are cut
String of greys
You won't see me soon I say
A rope of brown next to me
I cut the last string
Goodbye
It will be last time anyone will have a string to me