Stitch by stitch, she’s adding fresh thread to the monochrome mosaic inside my head.
How boring adoring is when you have no new muse, she pulls at my ends and I follow her cues.
Embroider me up, I don’t care if it stings. I’m sick of loose ends and tattered heartstrings.
Stick me and pick me apart at the seams. Add to what’s there with your row of spooled streams.
Make the needlework needless, a heedless display. I grow stitch by stitch, a threaded bouquet.
Comments