Before The Stitch Becomes A Scar

Seamstress

Before The Stitch Becomes A Scar

By: Nicole DeFelice

•

Every night,

My own hands

Punch stitches through

My two tender lips,

As I carefully sew

Myself back up,

In my magic mirror.

•

I’ve heard them say

“Fine times rarely

Spoil in the mind,”

Well I’m —rotten

At just the thought

Of you, so I don’t try

To speak it.

•

Savoring how the words

Held inside taste

Upon my tongue, but

My eyes still twitch to

Reveal precious secrets,

I’ve been pouring

Out in silent glances.

•

How I’ve struggled to

Declare it, being lost

In my abyss, spending

So many hours of

Needlework over wounds

That bled and re-bled.

•

Even tiptoed around

The idea, and yet

The seamstress

Keeps on buying

More colors of thread.

•

The stitches never

Heal to scars,

I patch the holes I

Make instead.

Finding mischievous hands

Embroidering tonight, you

Inside my head.

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