(my own words)
I wish I could take a needle and thread and then sow my heart to yours.
But there is no thread long enough to fill the void of silence that has now formed.
Does the wind carry my name, or do only echoes remain?
I have stitched the pieces of my heart together, yet the hollow still aches.
Like a wound that won’t heal, I still feel pain.
I see a cerulean sky after the rain.
It gives me hope of finding a way to bridge the chasm.
Then I look at the needle and thread, and my heart loses its rhythm.
Knowing there is no way back to you or escape from this prison.
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