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This is so tangled,  I can't figure out what happened.  He loves her and she loves another  and now I love him.   Funny how you think this kind of confused doesn't exist.  
The thread that ties me to you Is soaked in ether and stretches even deeper. This thread is of the worst kind of blue, Even though it was your favorite hue. It's purple in the right light,
She was sewn into me deeper than I was sewn into her but cross stitched we made a pretty picture. but I was poked by so many needles that I became holy, not Mary, cest la vie, this is the way it came to be.
Paper's there to listen when the earth has tuned me out, Poetry's the pillow that takes my angry shout, And writing is the friend that never fails to say, "Hello." It doesn't need to rhyme and it doesn't need to flow--
Cut me a red thread Like the Chinese belief it will connect us.   Cut me an orange thread To illustrate the bursts of love I first felt for you.
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