The Inner Patchwork (Poetry)

If taken apart
they would find my heart
totally busted
just held together
with Blutak and string

Old patch upon patch
those rough repairs that
fixed things for a while
make-do-and-mend style
the deep damage hid

from when still a kid
the heart punctured through
those puberty wounds
which never quite healed
quick sticky tape sealed

Who hasn’t got scars?
so few haven’t bled
in love or in war
with all of that said
I seemed to get more

than I might deserve ...
my heart’s full of aches
well-used to the pain
it’s old — when it breaks
I patch it again