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Today I found my favorite sweater
a jammy shade of red,
it was my mother's
until it shrunk in the wash

When I found a tear in the sleeve,
she looked into her sewing box
to find the closest matching thread
and she mended it for me
on the spot,
called it stitch witchery

I bet she wished
she could have sewn me back together
just as easily,
when I got torn

She didn't know what to do with me-
her daughter was snagged and slashed,
and though she searched and searched,
none of her thread matched

I still love this sweater
and I still
love her
Samantha May 4
Dripping in warmth, she took it back
It does not matter, does it?
A warm, plaid flannel
from someone she sent away?
It is swallowed by the threads of her thoughts
and holds spools of nights thinking about her fabricated personality
was she cut out to be a seamstress?
She could never tell, but whats the use?
She's tangled anyways
Poetic T Apr 25
A serial killer,
            hangs up his hatchet...

To scared of a cough to indulge,
                 in a fulfilment of a hobby..

Takes up sewing...
Anastasia Apr 17
Taffeta watches the pigs atop the tables
Glass eyes and stitches where they're enabled
Guts pumping crimson liquid
Sewing 'em up, she's addicted
Family and friends recommend she withdraw
She responded with a twinkle in her eye and a dropped jaw
Scissors and string, that's all she'll need
Besides a corpse, of course, and a bit of stuffing
Lilac eyes affixed on a tattered pillow
Enjoying watching a weeping Willow
Her poor Porky pet has met his end
But everyone knows you can depend
Before your sweet pet starts to smell
On Taffeta's Taxidermy to stuff 'em well
Inspired by a randomly generated word prompt, which brought my mind to a song by Teddy Hyde, Terry's Taxidermy.
Star BG Apr 2019
Sowing seeds become
a flowing blanket
of flowers to warm eyes
like... sewing stitches becomes
a blanket of warmth for self.
inspired by Mathew P Nangolo
Ray Dunn Apr 2019
The story of you is a tale of woe—
I collected her things, all safely been stown.
When we first met, my mother taught me to sew,
and with your blood, I must let her go.
Idk what this means. It kinda means nothing
BlueInkDitty Dec 2018
There's a pretty purple floating tissue,
A winter coat that I have made for you,
To keep you warm and happy someday you'll be freezing.
There's a weaving of friendship at the sleeves,
And a few kind wishes for you to live,
Hidden in the creases on the strings under your head.

The lining is no gold,
I sewed as I was told,
But I made it yours only.
And you can make it black,
And you can make it crack,
But it will be yours only.

Embroidements of laughter at the seams,
Tainted with your words and voice in my dreams,
To keep your lips and eyes pleated and sparkling.
You can wear it whenever you feel cold,
The silk gets better when it's growing old,
And be sure the shades of your heart and his won't fade.

The lining is my heart,
You wore it from the start,
And you made it yours only.
And I could keep it there,
And I could give or share,
But it will be yours only.

So come out in the snow walking on your hands,
I will try to keep you warm 'til the end,
This coat is the love I have sewed for you, my friend.
James LR Sep 2018
Life is not a tapestry
It is a single thread
The people are the knots and kinks
Who just get in the way of things
Of Mother Earth's sewing machine
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