When we got together I quickly learned that
he liked to fix things;
whether it be cars, toys or even people.

But I didn't need fixing.

So he peeled me apart,
petal after petal,
until I was no more than broken glass on the floor.

Then, he started stitching.

Where he had ripped me at the seams he
sewed my wounds together and glued the pieces back
until he was satisfied.

He was done knitting.

What I forgot to mention was
that he'd always grow bored a short while later
so he eventually left me for somebody else

"who needed fixing."