3 am you crawled to me
the darkness has swallowed
what was left alive in you.
all over your skin were bruises blooming
open wounds and blood pooling
I tried to sew your pieces.

I knew you’d come out of it brand new
I thought you were worth hanging on to
and there I was, suspended by a string.

you asked to borrow my tools and
I watched as my needles;
the ones I used to stitch you
were the ones that poked me
I thought you’d quit and hold me
only to find you holding the string to control me

I fell hard off a cliff
didn't even have the chance
to see what’s below me,
so I looked up only to find
you holding my scissors.

you cut those fibers
you threw me.

it was too late to realize that
the good in you wasn’t meant for me.
here I am, it’s 3 am again and
I’d like to knit with you one more time
if you agree.