on sewing

14 May 2009 at 10:32 am 3 comments

Once the fabric of my soul
With yours was tightly sewn
Until I didn’t know
Any difference from my own.

You pulled out the stitches.
Our bond was deftly slain.
And though the thread is gone
The needle holes remain.


Entry filed under: poetry & prose. Tags: , , , , .

to my mother sweet

3 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Hannah  |  14 May 2009 at 10:25 pm

    why are your poems so depressing??? O.o?

  • 2. hazelnutmegan  |  15 May 2009 at 11:54 am

    Its not suppossed to be depressing. Its just how it is. When you get that close to someone, even if they leave there will always be a small part of you that mourns losing them, a small hole in your heart where they used to fit.

  • 3. Elizabeth Hansen  |  28 July 2009 at 8:52 am

    I wish that some emotional putty and spackle existed to repair those holes. I know how much they can hurt, love you Megan. I love your poem on books, you seem to be able to capture in words what I can’t quite express.

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