Frayed and Gone

I’m frayed around the edges. My strength is gone. I track lint through the house. Fuzz drops out of my mouth. My brain grows fur. I’m told I’m on a roll. Maybe a cinnamon roll. Maybe I’m the butter. I try to catch myself with a frying pan, but I only bang my head. If only I could get ahead. A new head. One that doesn’t wobble and rattle when I look for you. I know you are gone, but I look anyway. I drag a frying pan full of lint behind me. I’m afraid around the fuzzy edges of a normal without you.

published on Contemplate