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Marlena R Aug 2015
My eyes to Slava my seamstress say,

"I'm begging you,
sew me a new skin
here
in your living room
to hold me together now
because I can't seem to anymore...

Dear Slava,
I know you know,
how the thoughts inside me
are crazed,
you've known my childhood days &
it's not me here.
Who's this dead thing in the living room?

I feel the bones inside me,
they're too loose.
You see me falling apart,
these eyes of mine the noose.
Catch me dear friend,
from myself!
I'm begging you,
change this stitch in time
for me?

— The End —