patchwork girl dreaming piecing together the scraps of silk frayed ribbons of broiderie anglais the tears of velvet darker than midnight squares of sackcloth hessian made to scrape against skin both thick and paperthin
patchwork girl sewn together with a golden thread and a needle finer than hate embroidered edges with floss spun by spiders from clouds of dreams, flower thoughts, starwonders and fragile pockets of maybe hidden beneath morning dew stitches all lose, then too pulled too tight
she is together she is all fallen apart the soft shape of a doll the tender shape of a girl
hold her, not an armful of scraps but something precious, one of a kind couture
You waited for the storm in my eyes to pass and wreck someone else’s home for a change you waited ever so patiently until it became a routine chore but if you had looked up for more than a second you would have realised that Winter raised me **I am the storm.
I screamed at my mother until my voice hurt I knew I was crazy but I was so scared she looked at me like I was her cup of coffee that had spilled I’m afraid I can get in trouble for being afraid following the dog days when you dogged me in all ways nothing kept me grounded I forgot about the earth heart was electrified need for sleep unrecognized I walked towards who I left for you hoping that if I slept with him you'd hear about it you’d be jealous when you called me button you were really saying you couldn’t join two parts without my help now you can only text me when you’re alone unlike when you needed me to keep your hole from tearing apart
The day I realized that it was okay to be upset at my ex and a fight between the only person I have left, my mother, ensued.