The Sewing Needle

They say to fall in love is handing your life over on a plate.  To hand it over and hope that it does not smash or break.  I feel that this saying does not even come close to explaining this state.  I’ll tell you what my dreams showed me, that falling in love is in a different forest growing from an unseen tree.  It is to mend your wounds and hand over the needle.  To watch as they stitch your pain, or tear the seams, bleeding as you watch their love or evil.  To trust this operation to one who can rise out of your own shadow and watch them stitch with anticipation.  Thinking and hoping they are a doctor of wisdom, and not one of dark intention.  Please stitch up my emotional and physical wounds!  I hope when I hand you the tools meant for healing they are not used as a weapon.  To rip my flesh, to attest to my personal best, and tear me down to nothing less than a mess, will be my mistake for the letting.  I watch those come and go as I hand over the needle.  Some try their best to fix and stitch, while others whom were trusted, slice and dice as I watch my hope in them struggle as it starts dying.  Others see the tattered and broken mistakes, forsaking me by not even grabbing my fate, by refusing the needle and leaving my wound as it was found, those are the true vultures, the true world breakers, the fakers that leave my broken wings and watch as I am unable to fly.  So hand over the needle to your life and think twice before you watch them grab the knife, before you watch them slice, before they drag you down to their height.  Choose true when they put you under their alluring anesthesia, when they romanticize in order to be the surgeon that watches you die.  Choose true when you hand over the needle because you will be handing over your soul to those precious people.  But know when you hand it over you are handing over yourself to someone who will treat you good, or tear you down and drown you in their own personal evil.