stop telling me it’s going to be okay
as if some phrase can make me feel better.
that if i use red colored fabric to cover
the holes in my heart
that it would beat the same as yours.

When love hits two people
It's far beyond their capacity
It's not a choice.
Like God, bored in his kingdom,
Ordered the angels
To stitch them together
As one piece of fabric
Through thick and thin.

Then the Devil, jealous of such union,
Does his best to set them apart again.
He tries loosening the threads,
Uses scissors to rip them.
He even makes little unnoticeable holes
Just to damage the cloth.

But they must be smart
They must see through his villain attempts
At spoiling the embroidery of love
God sewed on the cloth of their heart.
They must resist.

Sometimes they do
Sometimes they don't.


F.Z.**N

“You should never be surprised by or feel the need to explain why any physical system is in a high entropy state.”
― Brian Greene, The Fabric of the Cosmos

You are a book with many pages
You are a fabric with an endless design
You are a quote that has a moral lesson
You are a flower that has yet to bloom

I wish to see what's written inside you
I wish to examine the quality of who you are
I wish to understand what you mean
I wish to nurture you into what you have yet to become

I want to finish reading every word
I want to create you into a masterpiece
I want to use you in my sentences
I want to care for you, before you bloom

I will share your whole story with the world
I will show them you are the most gorgeous gown
I will show them the importance of using you in sentences
I will show them your beauty before you wilt.

My left leg
is draped
across my right.
I know that
pretty soon
the pins and needles
will take hold.
Starting in the
fold behind my knee
and slithering into
a tiring ankle.
I don't much mind.
The rhythmic shake of
a nervous left foot
is mirrored,
as my right hand
finds my lip
and feels in earnest
for a loose flake
of dry skin
to pry off.
It will probably hurt.
I don't much mind.
I've fixed my eyes on
an empty stool,
analyzing the pattern.
Imagining the feel.
Imagining you;
What you'll say
when you get here.
To be honest...

I don't much mind.

Fabric of fate, woven emotions, of which life is sewn.

My morning was Ivory satin
smooth and pure and bright
Birthday buzz and laughter
Bubbling thoughts of you
Noon was green velvet
Natural and warm and soft
Everything seemed to be right
And I couldn't wait to talk to you again
But the afternoon was black leather
When you texted me hi
Just to say goodbye
And the evening was ebony nylon
Flimsy, dark and easily torn
I tried to hide my crestfallen disappointment
But family is family
And they will be jerks
But no matter if you are immediate family
Or not
They can be your red wool
To keep you warm and away from harm
even when you are hurting silently
I shifted to a guarded charcoal chiffon
And he told me the way only a family member could tell
I know something's wrong
I promised I was fine even though I was becoming
Silver lace, fragile and tearing at the seams
He never spoke of it again
But for the rest of the night
He protected me from anymore damage
A tough sort of defensiveness
That meant everything to me
And for an evening, he was cashmere
Because I was touched that he could and would show me such strong family love
Without saying anything to me at all

Repost if a family member, immediate or not has done something kind for you to make them cashmere
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry! Especially long ones.