the knives that slit the dandelions from your fingers
cut into my sleep and burn the insides of my eyelids black
i know it isn't the same hurt, but that hurts more
all i wanted was to paint your fingertips gold
but they bleed red rose petals in my nightmares and
wake me too late

the memories draping over your face like a bridal veil
don't hide your tears from me
please let me take them from your head
your past has an ugly face
full of broken promises that made a little girl grow old too fast
don't keep your pain in your pockets in place of your dandelions

i know this is why i learned how to sew
at the time i thought it was so i could quilt my thoughts together
in a way that made sense
but seeing your bleeding fingers in my dreams made me realize
that my needle wasn't for the fabric i bought
it was for skin and bone and bleeding hearts that mean more to me than gold