By: Delaney McLinden

There is no word for knowing that someone is leaving soon,

but fiercely gripping onto a memory of them

like a child tugging at the her mother’s dress,

as she quietly shuts the door

and whispers to sleep.

There is no word describing the fabric of a person slipping through your fingers,

while you desperately try to grab the frayed ends 

but they only end up even more torn 

than before.