with words made of thread and
lips like a needle,
you weaved your words through me,
healed me, closed
all wounds.
but the thread was thin,
easy to break, and
with the slightest force, it snapped.
each time i turned away, there you were
with that same golden thread and those same loving lips,
ready to fix me over
and over again.
but how many times can the wound reopen
before it can’t be sewn up again?
how many times can i get my heart broken,
before learning that it’s okay not to forgive?
how many times does it take for you to pull back
until one day, finally
you just don’t come back?