The Tear

New (old) poem of mine.  This I found in an unpublished set of posts that I wrote mid-2017.  I like it, hope you do too.

 

The Tear

 

I gave you a piece of fabric

that you said was beautiful.

It wasn’t perfect, but that didn’t matter.

You aimed to make it your dress.

 

When you first noticed the tear,

you didn’t seem to mind it.

A snagged seam, no more.

You could forget it.

 

You may’ve tried, but on occassion

you’d remember.  You’d pick at it.

You’d check to see if it was worse

than you remembered.

 

Sometimes, I’d think you had.  Forgotten,

I mean.  I did.  Perhaps that was the problem.

For you’d always find it in the end,

and it made you watchful

 

for other, lesser tears.

Until you saw tears

that did not exist.  Not yet

at least, you’d say.

 

Every pick and jagged corner

became looming disaster.

Until at last, one day, you swore

it had unraveled beyond repair.

 

I took it back,

half-made and world-worn.

Believed that if you didn’t want it,

no one would.

 

I thought to make it a shrine.

To burn it.  Was tempted still to fix it,

best I could.  Meant to beg

you to take it back.

 

I did none of those things.  Found

that I couldn’t unmake what you’d done,

though I tried, I could only use what I had

to make something new.

 

And so I did.  Until the fabric was its own,

beautiful, not for you, but for me.

the tear not hidden,

but embraced.

 

 

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