For a quarter-century, I have
stitched patches of you
onto my skin.
See these silver-darned palms,
heirloom lace ankles,
the raised thread along
my leather soul.
This tapestry
is never finished…
your hessian is always
on my sleeve.
For a quarter-century, I have
stitched patches of you
onto my skin.
See these silver-darned palms,
heirloom lace ankles,
the raised thread along
my leather soul.
This tapestry
is never finished…
your hessian is always
on my sleeve.