Merry Christmas, August! (This turned out a lot sadder than I meant for it to.) Hopefully, despite the rough patch that Sally's going through in this poem that it's a good gift for you. I was going to write something reflective with Sally that might have not turned out into a bit of a sadder poem, but instead inspiration took me here. Hopefully, you love the poem and that it's a gift worthy of such an awesome friend as you! (I need to say, 'Hi,' more often than I do.) Have a blessed Christmas, and I hope that your Christmas went very well this year!

Broken pieces become whole with just a stitch or two,

but that never did fix a heart,

No matter how many stitches or bandages,

a heart could remain broken,

even as she stared down at a vanity that didn't quite feel like her own,

or as she stared at pictures that tempted memories to the surface,

and she wondered for the millionth time why she was like this,

when she knew how love filled her heart

or the place where a heart would have rested,

and her eyes found the little keepsakes and mementos on the shelf,

things that felt like another life in and of themselves,

though she remembered when he'd first asked her to be more than friends,

she remembered when finally her feelings weren't unrequited,

but she still wasn't sure where her feelings went

beyond webs and little spiders rushing off to keep her feelings chained down,

because there was a time when her feelings were full,

full of love,

and yet now they hesitated,

somewhere that was hard to pull them out of,

"I love you, Jack,"
and she knew that she did,

but she hated this depression,

fueled on by nightmares of before she'd fallen for Jack Skellington,

before she married him,

or even was his friend,

the times when she was just a girl,

in an unhappy home,

even as she stared at pictures of her own little girl,

one that she loved with all of her heart,

and feared that may be she was like that man who raised her,

that maybe love didn't leave her lips like a beautiful song,

just a shattered memory with a side of heartbreak,

even as she worked beyond her scars,

even as cool hands pulled her close,

and she closed her eyes to listen to her husband's voice,

and try to relax,

so that today wasn't quite so difficult,

a good day sometimes began with a good start to the day,

but even then,

voices whispered in her head,

anxiety swirled,

and she worried that she'd live a life full of regrets,

without treating her daughter with the kind of love that filled her heart,

Jack understood her,

but yet, sometimes that wasn't even enough.