Written by Sol, so I (Eden) can't really take credit for it, but definitely had to share this one. Hopefully it's not too long.
Comments and criticisms greatly appreciated.
The SeamstressThe way you slit my throat
Made me expect a kiss;
Slender lips supplanting grace
Upon an open wound.
Yet there was no subtle caress,
No timorous hand to stroke the cheek
Of my drifting, faded pallor.
Of course, instead
You wound the sutures through impossible seams,
Lockstitch braided over withering veins,
And split apart the sorrow
So you could hem up the edges.
And yet still I sat and admired the design,
Begging for a wisp of endearment
To crawl out from the gnashing,
Broken teeth of a jackal.
So I folded up the threadbare quilt,
Padding the swollen beating
Of a slowly dying heart,
Although I know that mine could never be
As ashen as your spite.
Because you knew I thought you'd carry me,
The one who had swallowed your disease
So you could dance over rancor
And rewrite servile fate;
You knew that I was broken glass,
And I thought, perhaps, you'd be there
To help me pick up the ruptured pieces.
Instead, you laughed,
And laid down to rest upon my gardens
As I tried to tend the flowers
With these lonely, broken hands.
So I pulled apart the stitching,
Unraveling the timidity
You had embroidered to the flesh,
Bleeding out a venomous growth
And pouring acid over dreams.
For I am no longer a shattered pane;
The false has been sublimated,
A haze of doubt slowly belittled,
And I've grown weary of nurturing
Your stillborn compassion.