An Old Sweater

This conversation's like an old sweater.
An unnavigable mess of tightly woven pasts;
stories yet told,
memories yet unleashed.
Protective patterns of insulation.

Out of curiosity you started pulling,
first at the tattered cuffs of the sleeves.
Innocent enough
but it wasn't enough.
Only partial stories, incomplete memories.

Slowly you unraveled me thread by thread
from waist to neck you revealed the hidden
complete truth.
Truth unprotected,
naked now standing at a pile of thread.

What comes next is yet unwritten.
This pile of thread, a new conversation.
Words yet spoken.
Beauty yet created.
But are you still curious?