Chaos Theory
I dropped a stitch,
A stitch in time,
And so her fabric unravelled
Little by little.
Slowly, with ironic deliberation,
At the turtleneck sleeve first,
Then up the arm, across the chest,
Along the back and down the other arm.
Like the owner her garment vanished.
A heap of shapeless yarn remained,
Resembling nothing so much
As poorly visualised memory.
Of worlds that could have been,
And possibilities that once were
And the chaos that now
Pervades her dreamless wake.
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