Thread Bare

If I would shave the loveliest pieces of me
into tiny glitter
that you could spread about you absently as
you moved about your day-

If I would roll myself out to be
As thin and malleable as a slip of paper
you could tuck into your calendar-

If I would shed my feelings and needs
until I was as light and unobtrusive as a winter sunbeam
you could bask in without discomfort-

If I would wash out my expectations, my pointed questions, like starch,
until I was as soft and accommodating as
your favorite old shirt-

maybe then
you would be willing to make enough room in your world
for me

And I would be too thread bare to notice

it’s not a place I wish to be

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