Originally Posted by J. Marie

(This is one of my first poems written, I know it could use some polishing up but to painful to re-write..still would love an honest opinion)Thanks

My heart goes out to you.

I will attempt to critique, piece by piece, and is only my opinion, and are merely suggestions. As a proem......Please do revise to YOUR liking, and what feels comfortable for you. What we say that may read better, is how we would like for it to read (how we like it), and it is your poem....I also advise to wait for an "Expert" and "Professional" critque from Ms Jacquii. What I appreciate most about this, is the fact that, this unedited version, with this type of content, is usualy very strong, raw, real, and rarely needs major revisions, simple minor adjustments. {IMO = In My Opinion}. With that said...

Need to let go of the guilt like the stitching on a quilt.
Unravel each thread, one at a time, until I unwind.

IMO, the first line is SO POWERFUL, that can stand alone. However, I understand your extention...cuz this is how you feel, and you would indeed unwind from this type of experience, because you are going throught it, not I, or anyone else, so I understand.

The quilt of guilt started long ago, by an overbearing mother, who I thought understood. I only dug myself deeper with trust put in her.
I only added more stitching to the quilt.
Unknowingly adding more guilt.

The following lines are again {SO POWERFUL} J.Marie...

I only added more stitching to the quilt.
Unknowingly adding more guilt.

I would like to see this power, this expresion of your hurt, weaved within this poem, your quilt. I would like to see it perhaps one or two more times, within the poem. To me will add richness, and rsymbolize repetativeness, just like the pain. But with saying a couple of times, you are taking ownership for these lines, and get stronger, each time.

My mother I thought was my friend, turned her back on me with all my pleas. I needed her, needed her trust, she was always hard to please
when it came to me.
Should of known better, I blame me.

Here, was different for me, as I never thought of my Mother as my friend, and I see, you did. So, here is one of those times that different backgrounds come into play, when critiquing, if one chooses to voice their opinion, even with the divergence. The stanza, as a whole, is part of the hurt, you are quilting, that you are also building in the story.

Reaching out for understanding and unconditional love the way a mother I thought should love. How wrong I was!
I tried to reach out, finding only coldness on her part, torturing my heart.
Hearing the phone slam down, she hung up.
One to many times she’s done this to me.
Why do I bother? It only adds more guilt on me.

Here, the layering, gets more intricate, with more emotion. The catayst for the anger is already there. Now, you are actually, going more in depth with your pain. I am so sorry, as I can only imagine, how writing this was extremely emotional for you. Perhaps, you experience in a small way, that writing this was a small dose of healing for you.

I did nothing wrong, I assumed she understood. She never gave us a chance. A chance to rekindle our love, our friendship. She only added more threads to the quilt. Leaving me feel the pain and the guilt.


Here is one of those times where those "POWER LINES", can be reused to reinforce the pain, the emotion, and so on..)(Instead of "I", perhaps, use the "She") SHE only added more stitching to the quilt. Unknowingly adding more guilt), instead of...(She only added more threads to the quilt. Leaving me feel the pain and the guilt). Just a suggestion.

Perhaps playing with those words "assumed she understood", may lead to something a tad bit stronger, since, you are in the hottest zone of the poem, here, with the layered emotion at a pinnacle..

So many misunderstanding’s she’ll never know. I only tried to be a good daughter and put trust in her soul.

Again, here, may what to play with the word choice..."So many misunderstanding's".......

So I sit here and cry trying to unravel these stitches pulled tight. Stitches of sorrow, stitches of lost tomorrows, stitches of distress that need to be addressed.....to go on with my life with no guilt inside.