The noose 

The noose around my neck grows old

Yet, the weathered rope refuses to snap, to let go

I can stick my finger between it and my neck. Puling it away from my body, loosening it enough to breathe.

So much so that I forget it’s there until it rubs against my skin again.

And the cycle repeats. 

I pull it away, walk too far, and it tightens

I wonder why I’ve failed to cut it yet.

Even time hasn’t been enough for it to unravel

But, I will continue pulling it from my neck

I have always been good at puzzles, and what more is a noose than a knot, a puzzle, you have to figure out? 

Besides, I’ve got so many ice cream flavors to try.