Leah Brodsky
I am like a quilt,
An array of blues and greys,
A variation of ornamentation,
Boxes of cognizant memories
Which I want to forget.
I am like a quilt
Comfortable and wrapped in my ways
Of non-existent vulnerability
Patterns of not opening-up
Sewn together with the labor of leaving.
I used to make quilts,
Sew the patches together like bandages
Tidying up the loose ends of the squares like sandwiches
Of various memories,
Like the fight that we never made up from.
The mean words flowed from our mouths
Like the cheap vodka we were drinking.
The craft was a prudent act of fixing the past,
But I stopped quilting…
Because I’ve been hurt so many times
The past repeats to the present–
I’ve felt comfortable in someone’s blanket
Only to have it ripped, wrinkled like an aged face,
And draped over the bed in the shape
Of my broken heart.
I am like a quilt
Who will wrap around the right person
And keep them warm
But I want them to unhinge me
Break down my walls
Untie my seams
And find the real me.