Stitches

Stitches

3/9/11

Stitches sown on scars will tatter

And that may eternally be my fate,

But to me, it does not matter.

Since I am now expecting, I try to scatter

Away from the malicious man I chose to date.

Stitches sown on scars will tatter.

“Rosie,” he sighed through my inept chatter,

Stepping solidly closer with his stalking gait,

But to me, it does not matter.

Now I will never hear the soft pitter-patter

Of my child’s little feet – at this rate

Stitches sown on scars will tatter.

Dropped, like a frozen rose, I shatter,

Extended belly is no longer my state,

But to me, it does not matter.

My world has been scattered due to his ceaseless batter,

For my child and I, help arrived too late.

Stitches sown on scars now tatter

But to me, it does not matter.