Repair problems

You try to patch

my slapdash life. But every time: the stitches snap.

The selvage won't stay sewn. The hem rips out. Seams burst again, again.

But I'm not rags. The fabric, though pinned, faded, torn, is woven strong.

Your threads of love unravelling still bind me in a skein of silk.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

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