Mending

I never knew together could really mean alone, when love's an empty tapestry of promises unsown. It once seemed so easy, not so long ago, when love was sweet embroidery we weren't afraid to show. Now the stitches loosen loving's fragile thread, knotting doubt securely in all we leave unsaid. Our passion has grown thin patched in hurried, thoughtless ways. So carelessly untended our love, unmended, frays.