tied

ive tied a thread to each piece which holds a memory of you.
all of these threads are draped thick across the hard wood floor

the lines hang heavy out of the open window,
blocking parked cars and tripping small children

threads get snagged sometimes, snapping
that memory is forgotten where the two pieces break apart

yet there are still thousands of threads, stretching 6 blocks
around street posts and into peoples yards

and the ivy has grown thick around them - straining them
as they hang down through the small dusty window

the lines trail to the warmth in you
and are tied delicately to your heart