Tension

Feedback on this one is appreciated!

~

I was born slowly,

the way modeling clay

hardens into a husk,

or how acrylic paint

begins to thin.

I was held by friends

who didn’t know

quite what to call me.

They took me and pulled

and pulled

and I tried to stretch,

to keep them together

but they drew me back

until I almost

snapped.

I lingered there

tightly bound in

thoughtful tautness-

perhaps I was the

sharp connection,

a spiteful bungee cord

that refused to let go.

The friends forgot

that I tied them so,

and I was again no more

than an undulating unknown.

Yet still, when they stop moving,

they can feel me, relentless

with my unwanted bond,

my untiring tug

which they wish would

disappear, but won’t.

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