Thursday 18 November 2021

A stitch here and there

I have often written, of your transgressions
Yet I have often forgotten what made you do
It is not mine, to pin the blame on you
It is your nature, you are a whirlwind
Spinning in your own directions
Gathering grime and dust
Only to chance decorate 
One who shall be swept in by you
I seek not to antagonise, nor paint you in dark
For you remind me of what bright was
Yet today, when the heaving ocean sparkled
I remembered, how you had muddied its water
Is it you who swept across 
Or was it the currents that drew you within
There is no one to blame, not you, not me
For we are in a paradox, entangled in reality
When; this time, and if you shall arrive
Leave alone my garden, for the leaves are frail
They haven't learnt to bear, for they wither easy
Knowing you, you can never stop
Knowing that, I have learnt to sew
Stitching my 'torn to asunder' heart

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