Not sure if I'll keep the above title for this one...but that is what it shall be called for the time being. As for this piece, like many of the others that have been posted here, it may be changed, revised, etc. to some degree at a later time...however, it is also likely that I will never touch it again. As to why it was written, well, I'm not going to explain this one. It just is, and shall remain that way.
Another week, another row unravelled; six more seams torn out and fabric rotting. Patches don't last and mending heals little. Knots help just till the thread turns brittle. A lifetime pulled apart, piece by piece. Scraps float to the floor until it is covered with an incomplete puzzle of memories. Another day, and it is gone. Swept up and pushed out of sight, leaving empty table, empty floor, empty hands without their master. Grasping for the last remaining shreds could not rebuild it, or even save the tiniest remnants. Melt into the floor-boards, you pile of an ended life. Break into unseen dust, and leave only the knowledge of your former brilliant existence to take your place in this empty room.
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