I feel cheated.
That I never had the chance to know,
Not only the taste of your lips;
But how it would feel to tie my soul to it’s wandering twin.
Stitching up the tear between them,
Painstakingly, gently, over expanses of time,
Only for you to unpick every carefully placed seam.
I can’t help but marvel at how casually you discard my offerings.
There’s a twisted beauty in your callousness.
As you turn and walk away once more, I stay and thread my needle again,
Patiently waiting to be another cutting on your work room floor.