la dous ki vyen

tangled thread

day after day
i sit and sew
pieces of you pieces of me
fasten you close
with my feverish hands
crookedly bonding us together
the needle going in and out
tucking in our frayed edges
stitching white
to mend past lies
colored to embroider shared pleasures
pin-pricked fingers
tear-pricked eyes
obstinately patching hearts
trying not to let the fabric unravel
through the clumsiness of my mind
or lack of hope
pieces of you pieces of me
even tangled
like thread in a sewing box
love is still what i believe in blindly

michele voltaire marcelin

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This entry was posted on Thursday, January 29th, 2009 at 8:07 am. It is filed under poetry and tagged with love, sewing, tangled thread. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.