Two strings
In a pile on the floor
Dropped there by life
Twisted by stress
From work and play
Looped
In these patterned lives
Frayed from the use
Of worn out relationships
Braided together by temptation
All alone
The strands interweave
Slowly at first
Feeling the way
And as the tying continues
It is instinct
As the pattern becomes more complex
And begins to tighten
Friction rises
Interlocking passion
And this knot becomes formed
Until unraveled in the morning
 
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