Look at my seams: untouched, raw.
I sew them gently,
my hands were shaking
with almost fear
that I can't put
a needle through my soul
myself. Alone.
I am afraid to say, to be the one
who finally admits
that help comes forward,
if only I
let someone touch the seams,
and heal it,
and help me heal myself.
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 6:12 PM UTC
Look at my seams: untouched, raw.
I sew them gently,
my hands were shaking
with almost fear
that I can't put
a needle through my soul
myself. Alone.
I am afraid to say, to be the one
who finally admits
that help comes forward,
if only I
let someone touch the seams,
and heal it,
and help me heal myself.
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