Seams

An empty shell
lifeless on the floor
Glassed over eyes
a gaping hole where the heart
once pumped.
Crawling
searching for every piece.
covered in blood so old
it's turned black.
smeared across my face
dripping from my fingers.
Found all but a few.
The seamstress in me sets to work.
Make it one to beat again.
Every artist leaves a piece of them in their work
a piece of me I leave in you.
Returning heart,
a few more stitches to it hold
the blood has dried stained and cracked
hoping, praying it's not to late.
it works-
a sigh of relief for just a thump-thump
looking
seeing
for all the work
still
fingers drip
face smeared
glassed over eyes
lifeless on the floor
just an empty shell.