Pieces torn

There is an emptiness in my heart

A seam that has torn, 

the torn fabric piece just stares at me as though it knows it has been torn from it's other half

It waits in a patient, yet grief filled stage for me to patch it back together 

As I pick up the needle and thread

My hands begin to shake

My heart is racing, and with an unbearable pain of disappointment 

My mind is trying to understand and cope with the methods of patching it back together

My lip begins to quiver

Tears filled with the same sadness, and grief that young girl in my youth so often cried over, and fought over

I whisper to the fabric piece, I can't sew

I am no seamstress...