Wrung through

I’m no good at this either: I’m strung thin, wrung out and wondering what to say. I noose you with loose meaning, scared to pin down my scheming because you don’t want to know what I think of what we don’t want to think about.

If I could be better I would and I’d do what I could not to cry when we are wound up in thoughts we try to share but don’t dare to explain because we know how they wound and we don’t want to do it again.