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.