Needle and thread

Needle and thread

A needle cuts to scratch an itch.
Wasted life splotching candle wax all crystal clear.
In this new found imperfection, melting away,
Does she let her cry boil unheard?
Or will she let it take over,
Knowing no one will rethread a candle which bled.

Black cherry lipstick oozing a tomato red.
Hesitation gnawing bone dry lips
And burning four leaf clovers.
Her disappointment disconnecting the phone she won’t hear
Whispering just another urban preacher word.
Funny that god never has anything to say.

Oh happy day,
With light result of bitter breath shed
And stifled cries now seeming absurd.
Watching the sun light spill from between tattered window slits,
As if her sunshine had something urgent to show her
Or aimed to let her slip away, unnoticed, for sun lit skies shed no tears.

Sweetly reveling in the gravity she need not adhere,
She’s finally placed her feelings on display.
She kisses out the candle in its fitful stir.
Her thread now the needle through which to thread her head.
This masterpiece, although gratifying, regrettably not the preferred,
Yet still leaving to reap what was sewn in this stitch

by sakie3
posted on 01/25/2008