A Wooden Spool of Thread

We've never met, you and I
but I have your silver sewing scissors
and a wooden spool of thread
A nightmare you didn't remember split your personality in two
It clasped your hands around bottles of liquor
and kept that smile plastered to your face
You woke the household during your spells, when you couldn't sleep at night
Mary, Mary, quite contrary-
How did your garden grow?
You were never there to tend the gardenias

I cut knots away with your silver scissors
and wonder what your world would have been like
in a different time and place
Maybe they would have seen you were sick around the eyes,
and caught your demise early
I would be different had I known you-
had you lived to tell your tale from sane lips
We could have tended the gardenias together,
because no straight jacket would have caught your arms,
and the empty wooden spool would not be rolling
around in the bottom of my drawer

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