Unraveled
It happens every time. And there's no way around the distance from here to there.
The raw material forms a tangled mess. The kind with gum stuck in it. That’s when I need to start again from the beginning and cut out the strands too mangled to salvage.
Words churn and turn and spin until rinsed clean in the washing machine of My Voice. Spun into yarns. Woven and pressed into garments I ease into. Folding around me like they'd always been worn.
My persistence pays off.
I win. Every time.
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