I carefully check the stitching,

To be sure of its placement,

To make sure it’s still there,

Then I work on another piece.

--

They’ve been gathered up,

Most of them are torn,

Matted and threadbare.

I don’t replace them.

--

Each of them are different.

Each of them are differently damaged.

Each of them are unique and special.

Each of them are a little piece of me.

--

Whenever I think of you,

And your whirlwind of words

And actions that tore me to pieces,

I refine my skill of putting myself back together.