Watered Silk

Scraps of disappointment in the tree
The warp and weft is hanging now in shreds
The fabric that was wrapped and made us we
Is nothing more than many broken threads
I brought my needle why don't you have yours
Repairing what we have a task to share
But you disdain my craft and thus my mores
And you would leave our life just dangling there
So I will weave a different tale alone
The warming red replaced with silver chill
For loving you has ultimately shown
The beating hearts to easily are still
My solitary silk is watered tears
My comfort cold to come in lonely years

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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