Unraveling

I like to think of myself as a spool of yarn
the other person pulls; unraveling me ever so
slightly with each small tug. 
I lose pieces of myself
I grow smaller, weaker
As time wears on the once thick yarn now barely
covers the spool - its foundation poking out between each fine string
The tugs at the string are harder now
each pull nearing closer to the end
They never think to replace the yarn
And I don't think to pull some of their own
So, I'm left unraveled
a plastic shell
My fibers hauled elsewhere 
used to piece together
Someone Else