Fondly Frayed

Shelter from the biting winds, the ends, fondly frayed,

Snuggled in the threadbare fabric, tattered hearts as one.

My dulled, unravelling scarf with the edges all decayed

Wrapping me up warm in the chilling winter sun.

My sentimental scarf twisted gently round my neck,

Winds yanking lazily at each ungainly thread.

Patterns, once quite interlaced, now only tarnished fleck,

And what was burning crimson now a dusty, dull brick red.

The world will bring a withering on everything and one.

The biting winter snows and the breezes’ frozen blade.

And we will have the memories when all is said and done.

The threadbare scarves and tattered hearts, the ends, fondly frayed.

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About pasameerday

I haven't got a lot of time to keep you interested, so I'll be quick. I'm a writer from the UK, primarily of fantasy and sci-fi short stories, and occasionally of strange, nonsensical poetry. I like cats, the Sims, and pizza, and I go to sleep to the sound of a keyboard. I've been writing for my entire life; to be honest, I don't think I could ever bring myself to stop. I have a feeling I'm losing you, so I'll bring this to an end before you slowly start to back up, hoping I'll stop talking long enough for you to make a quick getaway. Wait... Where are you going? Hey! Wait! ... Stop!!
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