spinster's patchwork

I walk and fill in the gaps. I tailor the patches large, but the emptiness still lets show.
Look, it almost fits. If you squint and look from a distance, it looks like something real, something healthy and normal. But then a moment of calmness and focus is enough to make it obvious again. It's when it's too dark to see and I have to deride myself.

I don't know what is missing, I don't know what I need to fill it with. Maybe it's my mistake to call it a lack in the first place.

Constantly alert, as if a verification were to come, the final judgment of what I've experienced.

Everybody says, look ahead, it is where your chances are.
But I'm kind of too scared to look them in their face.

I've known the feeling when the only thing about yourself that you truly perceive is yearning that brings pain.
Still, I haven't got used to that.