With quiet fingers
Manipulating the threads
Within your heart
To create the desired effect
...Your love
But like everything
It wares away with time
The threads become tired
And misshapen
And snap under the slightest pressure
So now I sit
No tasks for my sullen hands
Except simply count the minutes
That pass by
While I lie here
With broken threads
And quiet fingers
That will become torn blankets
And empty hearts