Threads dispersed, tendrils drifting,
Cross stitches holding my heart together
Fragile grips for forever
Like kisses on a broken organ.
Undisclosed attachments to materialistic grips
Patterned designs meant for purpose
But, oh, giving me goose bumps of joy
As I blanket stitch them together.
Expressing my toxic insides
Filtering them with padding
Slip stitch my lips so nothing escapes;
Shh! Here comes the blunt truth…
Nothing can hold back the black and white
No shade. Backstitch that bad stuff,
But the running stitch won’t erase it.
The stark truth prevails like a blind stitch.