Push me down.
Press me small.
Thread your needle through me.
I don’t mind--it doesn’t hurt.
Just please, don’t sever our strand.
I will grasp onto your loose strings.
Attach me to your favorite sweater.
That way I can be with you always.
Tie the knot.
I promise to keep you snug and warm.
You tell me you have outgrown me.
You scold me for being so constricting.
I thought you loved this sweater before.
You cut me off.
No scissors, blade, or seam ripper can hurt me.
Not as much as you.
But in your sewing kit, I will wait.
Once you are bored with your new project.
You may seek to thread your needle through me.
And we can try again.
—
Clare Woodring is an eighteen-year-old writer from Boonsboro, Maryland. She is attending Hagerstown Community College, where she is taking a writing class elective as she completes her degree.