The Needle Meeting

I fall apart at the seams,
and you walk into my life again.

You’ve turned up with two needles,
but which one will you use?

They shine menacingly,
you display them like jewels.

The one that can sew me back up again,
expertly stitching my broken seams,
the mending one.

The one at the end of a syringe,
ready to inject the lethal solution,
the poison one.

Either one suits me fine
so long as I can say
that you are mine.

You always were
my best friend of all time
for that short time.

Come into my life again
and bring your best,
sharpest needles.


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