Wordy time with Cut

Sitting with the little pieces
of what remains,
needle and thread in hand,
the misshapen broken thing
that sits in my lap begins
taking shape again,
the jagged damage from
uncaring previous owners
erased with a
little time and effort,
removed with
the stitches that
are seamlessly pulling
it back together,
there will always be
that little bit of character
that displays the
marks left by others,
by myself-
the story of something
that withstood the
test of time and travels,
that shows that
I have been broken before
and probably will be again,
but I'll sit here
in my chair then too,
I know how to pull
myself back together,
that I will be okay
without you,
because
I cut it out myself
and I can put it back,
this tattered heart of mine.