Alas, our tapestry is ripped;

but, we’re not irreparable.

Woven and inseparable,

part of the cloth, we can’t be snipped.


Fashion glorifies the rend,

the world marginalizes tears.

Separation shreds without cares,

love, though, is the cloth on the mend.


Knitting a patch is not magic.

Despite feeling so abandoned;

our unlovedness is unreasoned.

We are part of the same fabric.


Even though threadbare and worn through,

we must commit to find a way.

Make amends in the light of day

refresh our interweave anew.

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