Your heart strings,
like spider webs,
hold me in their grasp.
But with each movement
and fearful thought,
I become more unattached.
And though my eyes saw clearly
the sticky strings you spun,
our friendship,
like dew drops,
brought me in with the glistening sun.
For flying freely
talking to a friend
never appeared precarious
until it reached this end.
I'm sorry that changing my position
and where I'd rather be,
would pull apart this pretty thing
and leave you with bits of broken string.
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