Untitled 12
It’s over.
I used to push and pull
trying to make a piece
from a ripped cloth but
the needle treaded my skin.
I was running out of thread
but I kept stitching.
It hurts.
It’s throbbing.
It’s unending.
At the end of the knot
I saw droplets of blood.
It’s painful,
but I like it.
It’s better this way
than to see spurting blood
coming out from my heart.
Nothing’s more vivid than red.













