Once you have left, my colours will fade.
When you're away, I unravel like thread.
I didn't do as the instructions said.
Our fleeting love was hand-sewn and home-made.
Inferior stitching exposing your trade;
a girl with warm lips whose eyes are so dead.
Misshapen by wear, you discard me instead.
Threadbare is my heart and I am a-frayed.
Facing rejection I'm laddered like tights –
This time the holes can't be mended with darn –
I was never on-trend, I'll freely admit.
Sad and alone, those unfashionable plights.
After you left, I unravelled like yarn.
My jumper of love is now too small a fit.