Lost hope

What of love?

As she works tirelessly to mend broken souls,

Fervently stitching the frayed ends together,

Her fingers rough and calloused.

What of love?

When you unpick all her hard work,

And then complain of that hole in your shirt,

The one where your heart once took shelter.

What of love?

She gave you the shirt off her back,

The one you now wear,

With the hole where she once lived.

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