Stitches

Holding it all together. Sewing up my body. The holes in it. Like some ageing teddy bear, with the stuffing spilling from a wound. I don't even know how many of them. Another fragility, another scar, another part of me to shower with love. We break each other so well, what about the fixing? The tenderness. She put them there, took them away, in some flurry of mad words. Pieces of some puzzle. If you ever took the time. You could solve it. You could corner me in the stratosphere, love me there forever. I am your puzzle. Once upon a time, there lived a puzzle of a man. He would wear scars and have stitches of all kinds holding his body together, just like that beautiful teddy bear, destined to be held and loved by some little child. Where is the mind? and what holds that creature together? The greatest thing of all. Forget the body, what we are supposed to look like, what we are told to be. The books, the forest of art, the music, the life, upstairs, in the mind. The places, the people, the songs and dances, the sunshine and the cold. Heaven forbid you should put anything first ahead of the mind and what it can achieve. It is the most beautiful weapon a person owns, and wielded well can show imagination and passion and so much love. Never give up on things. All there for a reason. Stitches and sorrow. Broken kisses. Sail out to sea and never look back.