Stitches

Stitches

Can you see me?
No, you looked right through me.
My pain I wear
like a patchwork quilt.
Surely you saw me
in these multi-colors?
Pain, regret, sorrow, rejection.
Each square a tribute
of its own to my stupidity.
See the threads?
They are my tears,
connecting one painful
memory to another.
You carry the tool
to take apart this quilt.
Can you, would you,
free me?