This feeling is like unraveled toilet paper streamed across the bathroom floor.
Gathering, it keeps gathering hair, and dust, and specks of last night's visitor.
It trails and trails in and out and in and out, tearing at every stitch, every dotted and slotted break in the line. But, it never breaks completely. It's half torn, half damaged, half dirtied.
But, it only takes one smudge, one imperfection, to insert that desire in you to tear it all away.
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