The coat

It looks like witchery
the way you stitch my coat
patching a myriad of memories
in your needles’ flight
twirling between 3 fingers
without getting confused
a thin dent on your leather thimble

You’re a solitary star and all else
would be fury against freedom

When you birthed out of conformity
I saw truthfulness unassembled
and it meant something
to my eyes – a transformation

That smile – I’ve mostly seen sour lips
when explaining myself
your needle pokes me playfully
I revolve around who I think I am
before suddenly waking up
in darkness’ fading traces

Stitch it snug at the arms
I want to hold my warmth
I want to make people feel
forget the cold wind inside
my body curls against lapped seams

I find potpourri sewn into each pocket
you invite me to give it my own scent
before your eyes, your hands, I unravel
it is never about starting over you say
never, I hear, never


© Monique (starfish_72)

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Monique's Notebook

Poetry mainly - I play with my creative freedom.

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