I am your masterpiece,
I am what you made me; every stitch and every crease.
Like the finest tailor, you cut me open at the seams,
And sewed me back together as a quilt of your insecurities and dreams.
I was hand-stitched and handpicked to bare the weight of your pain.
And in my strength you found another string to pull time and time again.
Before I collapse and fall apart, you sew yourself into me,
So instead of all the holes and tears, it is only the beautiful patches that they see.
Your strength was drawn from my frayed and fragile heart,
I am your creation; I was built for you to use and tear apart.

Dear heart
Of him you are
But in you I see
How you have many scars
Of times when you were opened to wide
Opened to fast
Opened with an invisible knife
Which was then ripped out
To leave a mark forever.
So many scars and stitches
And bandaids and bruises
And so many broken pieces put back in.

And I am so sorry.

Dear heart
You beat in the both of us
For the first time there is this new feeling
Something so foreign and different.
We don't understand
And we don't know how.
We open up to early like normal
But this time it seems different.
That's what they say everytime
But this time its the truth.
Something is so different.
I am careful of his wounds
I clean his scars
I take out his stitches.
I put on every single bandaid
And am careful not to rip them off.
I forgot hearts could handle so much.

And I am so sorry.

My dear heart.
I took so much time caring for his heart
That I forgot that you need to be cared for
And that you too have unhealed scars
And you too have bruises.
I took so much time healing his heart
And forgot to heal you
That when his heart was beating normal
It beat so loud to try and find its echo
In the chambers of another heart
But you my dear heart forgot to beat loud enough
And so he didn't hear you
And went to another beat.
And you were left with another wound
And no one to sew it up.

And I am so sorry.

These words are the stitches that keep me put together.

One day, you
decided I would
speak no more.
So I sat as
you sawed my tongue
and sewed my lips,
"For proper measure," you said.
You smiled at your finished work.
I couldn't.
You see,
My lips were sewed
together, too tight
Like the pen
I held,
hidden in my hand.

Ever greet
Someone so
Sickly sweet?
Her candy
Apple red
Puckered lips.
Her minty
Fresh white
Glistening teeth.
Her short
Honey combed
Locks of
Angel hair.
Its all
Too much
For me
I swear.
The scent
Of acid
Cotton candy
Penetrates the
Small room.
Innocently dressed
Classically groomed.
With a
Smile that
Says "I
Could just,
Like be
Your bestfriend!
I'll try
To hop
On your
Boyfriends ****
If you
Turn your
Back for
Just one
******* second!"
Call me
A sour
***** but
I hate
The fake
Super sweet
Little *****
That walk
Around like
Theyre the
****, like
They've got
Some god
Given right
To act
Like fake
Crowd pleasing
***** *******
I'll fill
Your face
With bruises
And stitches.

A line
A stitch
   In time
Seams
  To tend
To mend
    This mind
Of mine

Scars
Each line
  Rewind
To remind
  You'll know
When I sent it
That I meant it
  If it rhymed

A line
A stitch
In time
  Seams
To tend
To mend
  This pathetically
    poetic
mind
      Of mine

I'll stitch myself together
with the most misshapen parts
and sharpest shards of who I am;
not so that I might return
to who I once was,
but in hopes that I might
become something better,
or at least someone
somewhat whole again.