A tiny stitch
of negligent size
has been sewn
nice and tight
on my heart
over the tick
that steadily beats
a staccato beat.
And from this stitch
there extends
a veritable line
of a surreal bend
that crosses lands
and many seas
till it meets
the shores of meet.
And this is where
the other end
is firmly held
by love’s own hand
that tugs and pulls
ever so gently
this lethal line
of crippling capacity.
Till every pull
and every tug
bleeds a drop
into Dolores’s cup.

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