string cheese
doesn't ask for anything
a shred of thread
is fine to be left alone
but the tattered strings
on my old shirt
beg to adorn me
so worn-
forlorn they suffocate
in a white string-tied
kitchen garbage bag
and hope to be pulled
so they can become
a zig-zag fabric mess
a pile of carpet fuzz
the doorbell dings
phone rings
i think about
those sullen strings
i toss aside
the clothing bag
will bring to the bin
another day
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