Returns: a collection of self

Patchwork Lover

A different fabric made from each and every cover
Tearing from the seams so that I could add another
Pulling by a thread, it keeps on changing colors
In the end, they leave, and in silence I will suffer

What are the odds that she could stitch me up together
Then turn around and say that she could stay forever
A broken heart that's taken any given measure
To fall apart again and watch the feelings sever

"Give it time" they say, with time, the color's fading
Oh, the loneliness, each second I spend waiting
For another fabric, vibrant in the shading
Just for them to leave, my heart is for the playing

"What are my odds that I will find the one" I wonder
A skillful hand and yet so gentle going under
To take my heart and will not leave it in the gutter
If I'm alive by then, I'll be their patchwork lover