Fringe

                                                                                     

We lived 

on it

You lived

        in it.


Wrapped

                        Shawled

               Swaddled


It wisped

Got tangled

Got caught

Got torn


Car door

House door

Dog door


Sleevelessly situated

You’d always capitulated 

To its mediocre warmth


Dangling with panache

T’was never in the wash

A fashion statement

A westward escapement

Spaghetti entertainment

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