Patchwork Heart

She had a patchwork heart, stitched together with memories.
She had fallen so many times.
Falling apart, and rearranging the pieces, so that they never quite fit the same.
Some parts didn't quite match up anymore.
Some pieces were too small to reconnect.
So she walked around, half reconstructed.
Some days, the pieces were uncomfortably tight in her chest.
She sighed and cried and shifted to make them fit.
But they never did.
Not right, anyway.
They just sat, jagged, barely touching, held together by fraying thread.
And every once in while, a thread would give out.
She would convulse, stumble, fall.
And wait until the shaking stopped to spin another thread of memory and stitch herself up to keep going.
Never quite together, never all apart.