Seamstress (a poem by Jack)

Life isn’t a puzzle it’s a pattern…And the pattern I weave is quite unsettling..

You see, behind every loved soul… Is a trail of what-could-of-been loves…. So many who thirst for my acknowledgement only to have me seek the affection of another..aborted loves..

Hallowed out hearts and slumped love… Muddied puddles and molted daisies.. So much love lost comes from a broken heart..

But so much loved can be gained from a love renewed..

Imagine that.. If all that waisted love could be gathered.. And a seamstress could make a perfectly sewn patterned with each love unique.. Each patch representing the potential the heart felt and the mind’s eye foresaw…

Could you imagine wrapping yourself in the warmth of all that potential..

You’d keep warm in the midst of your cold heart.. 

Rather… My chilled emotion..

I wouldn’t feel the way I felt now.. This aloneness would never be… The pattern of searching for something that was always there could never be…

But it isn’t difficult to figure out why this is my fate.. Because life isn’t a puzzle.. It’s a pattern.. Habits and human nature customize the death bed of us all…

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