"P A T C H W O R K"

by s.p. burke

I feel I am coming apart,
frayed at the seams of me;
a patchwork quilt I call the heart
of who I am, and who I want to be.

I sew myself back together
stitched in uneven, chaotic lines.
My poetry, a thread of vivid colors
which oft lack reason, not rhyme.

The stitches appear so beautiful
against all my shades of black and grey
tell of despair, then hopeful repair
through what I write, but cannot say.

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