The thread that binds.

Seven years have gone by since.

They say the skeleton renews in that time. Is that how long it takes to release your grip?

The calm that now lives at the centre of me is so unfamiliar. So fresh and novel. I keeping checking it’s still there, it feels so much like home. The home that is eternity waiting for us to return to it’s embrace.

My diaphram had been so tied up in knots. It took a while to unpick those knots threaded nervously over the years. Threaded ritualistically as if there I could find comfort and make a home. But there only lay suffocation.

My voice bound.

The thread that binds.