Threads stitch
Lines through our hearts
Broken by the space
Between apart and now
We falter
Spinning our wheels
Yearning touch
Hand prints on wet windows
Where echoes ring rivulets
That seep beneath our skin
Gnawing air
Like butterfly wings we blow
Until the sugar falls off
And all that’s left is gasps
Words, pierced mid-syllable
By needles
Filled with ink
So it sticks
Like a whistle through our lips
So many stitched-tight lines
It’s easy to forget how things spin
Brenda Warren 2017
Visit The Sunday Whirl
undercaws 
I love, ‘so many stitched-tight lines.’
LikeLiked by 1 person
So gorgeous:
“Like butterfly wings we blow
Until the sugar falls off
And all that’s left is gasps”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful.
Love,
Pamela
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love this!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Although there is deep sorrow in these lines, your imagery is incredible, Brenda. This is a terrific write on so many levels,
Elizabeth
LikeLiked by 1 person
A poignant piece tinged with sorrow.
Click to visit Keith’s Ramblings
LikeLiked by 1 person
The imagery here is breath-taking
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reading poem I was obsessed by a feeling of sadness no doubt caused by those early words ‘broken by the space between apart and now’ tha set the whole scene.
LikeLiked by 1 person