Stitch my mouth shut

So that these foul words will never again fall on innocent ears. 

So that nothing I ever say will fall on anyone's ears. 

Stitch my eyes shut

that they will never let another see the silent tears. 

Stitch my ears shut 

so I will no longer hear all the cruelty in their world. 

Stitch my arms to my sides 

that I will never again touch the cold, bitter, and shallow parts of the world. 

Stitch my feet to the ground 

that they might never again tap against the concrete they knew so well. 

But most importantly- stitch up the wounds of mine, the ones still bleeding from my heart. 

That's what stitches are for--right? 

Fixing something to make it all better again? 

But before you stitch up the wounds in my heart, 

first unstitch my mouth, so I might once again speak and it not fall on deaf ears. 

And if you have the time, 

please unstitch my eyes, that I might let them see the silent tears and feel unashamed. 

And if you feel that you can,

Please unstitch my ears that I might take the cruelty in their words and let kind words befall them instead. 

And if you are in any way willing,

please unstitch my hands from my sides, that I might embrace the cold, bitter and shallow and show them warmth, sweetness, and depth in places where there was none. 

And if you would be so kind as to

unstitch my feet from the ground, I might once again tap as I walk along the pavement, smiling as I know it so well.

But most importantly, 

after you’re done unstitching and the time has come to stitch up the wounds in my heart, the ones still bleeding, if only less so. 

Because that’s what stitches are for--right? 

Fixing something to make it better in the eyes of the one doing the stitching? 

And so before you stitch up my heart, would you be so kind as to take one last request?

Don’t.

Don’t stitch up my bleeding, broken heart that still feels so much pain.

Don’t stitch it up like you did my mouth and eyes and ears that I might’ve become lost.

Instead, let it bleed, let it break, let me feel pain.

Let it scab over and eventually scar.

Let me know what it’s like to feel on my own.

To heal and not be told how.

And when the scars are finally there and the wounds are all closed, 

let me tell you with my unstitched mouth 

hear you with my unstitched ears 

see you with my unstitched eyes 

show you with my unstitched hands 

and walk away with my unstitched feet tip-tapping on the pavement they know so well, 

Then,

I will show you why,

I will never again,

be needing your stitches.