thread the string through the needle,
tie a knot at the end,
poke the needle through the fabric,
until two separate sides are glued
I sat on his bed,
stitching the rips in his pants
jeans so thread bare and falling apart,
I doubted a little thread could start
what was needed to fix them.
But he requested and so I offered my best,
sitting on the edge of his bed,
cheeks redding for his gaze
was not directed at me but at the wound
on my right wrist.
"What happened?" spoke his curiosity,
and I mumbled the usual story,
a scrape, an accident, I'm so clumsy
but he didn't stay to listen to me.
Instead from the bathroom he retrieved
a medicine cream.
And gentle with his fingers,
he dabbled it on me,
and I sat still on the edge of his bed,
pushing my needle and thread
through my finger tips
so I would not reach out at touch him.
So thread bare and falling apart,
I doubted a little love could mend my heart.