One day when my heart is patched
over in the quilt of my experiences
you'll only be one square.
And on that day I'll laugh.
The wound will have long since healed
with a thousand fractal colors sealed
overtop—interlaced, re-faced, re-structuring--
your spot replaced like it was never something.
YOU ARE READING
Every Last Drop
Poetryfor hard times. for the lonely late nights. and the tears we cry. every last drop. * all rights reserved
