Tangled, Knotted Pieces

You tugged at the frayed end

Knowing what damage you were causing.

I had not the knowledge of repair.

Some things are beyond a simple fix.

Everybody saw you.

You destroyed the fabric publicly

While I stood by in a stupid stare

Of unbelief this could happen to us.

Ultimately, the many-colored strings

Lay in a clumped heap on the floor.

Everybody walked away in a hush

Until I stood alone, gathering the remains.

But there is no repository for such material.

Some return to offer consolation

But all they really want is to enjoy my pain

Hoping I will weave a new fabric of bitterness.

One day you will suffer in the knowledge 

It was by your own hand you caused this misery.

By your own device you crafted this contempt.

You swallowed pain like bread that day.

I will burn these tangled, knotted pieces.

The bright conflagration will be intense but brief.

In a moment all will be grey and cooling ash.

You will travel the long path, in festering sorrow.

All else will have their memories cleansed. 

Even me.