My quilt

Throbbing fingers falter
Tender from each misguided prick
Hopes and dreams patched together
With glue and string to make them stick.
Lives are sewn together
Hastily but carefully played
An intricate pattern emerges
And a patchwork quilt is made.
Some seams are made to be ripped
And squares to be pulled out clean
While others must be cut
And jagged edges must remain.
My quilt is full of holes
Pieces that have been worn through
Missing parts of my life
That use to guide me through.
But you have always been the string
That has mended up my tears
That has guided and has comforted me
Throughout the passing years.
My quilt is worn and ragged
And bloody dots show through in spots
But I know that it will last me through
Because every string ends with a knot.