These clothes are not my own;
sewn to bone, button-holed to skin,
neatly pressed, hemmed in,
diaphanous, worn thin.

A promise-woven pelt,
yet you have felt what I tried to hide;
the frayed, grey remnants
that I have stitched inside.


Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “Seams

  1. How lovely! Only someone with a true heart can see through what is so well hidden 🙂

    indeed beautiful poetry, I wish you would share your work more, such loveliness! 🙂

  2. Brendan

    What a rich image, the “promise-woven pelt” one wears from the inside of the heart that gets so worn and threadbare after repeated disappointments. I wonder, can such a garment renew when hope springs afresh.? So neat and tidy in rhyme and rhythm, flawlessly sewn ….

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