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Dear-Stitching thread,

maybe you're  meant to be my tailor.

I've designed you uncountable times before,

in the dreams I've so firmly sought after.

i walk your patterns in circles.

Ebbing away at the very meaning I've retained

for an occasion the common calendar fails to disclose.

Hoisted above a cleaver insertion, i wait for you......

Befriend my hope, and donate your thoughts

to my army of curiosity that seeks salvation.

kiss the kiss you've missed with the fiascoes from the past.

I'm in the Dressing room, forever.

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