//-------------------------------------------------------// Stitch by Stitch, My Mother Said -by gloamish- //-------------------------------------------------------// //-------------------------------------------------------// Thread by Thread //-------------------------------------------------------// Thread by Thread Stitch by stitch, my mother said A lady mustn't lose her head. Aim to someday be someone And hem it lest it come undone. High fashion and haute couture, This gown for pomp, that for allure, Mother led me through it all And snared me in its lifelong thrall. Immerse myself in history Eyes devour subtleties On every mare I meet I see A new garment waiting to be "Settle down," my mother said When passion flushed my colors red "Don't be swept up in the art and Forget why it was you started." She told me of a perfect world: Mares who waltz in lacebound swirls Each follows their charming prince I've searched for mine ever since. She taught me how it all revolved Around the courtship dance of old: There's a match for every pony You'll be whole in matrimony. When I asked, "What happens after?" All I got from her was laughter. I never could explain the feeling I had when I saw stallions kneeling Knowing that mare would be I I know now: I was terrified. Mother says she's going home. Ponyville is all I've known But now she's given me a chance: I could follow her to Prance. I have a choice of who I'll be: Provincial or royalty. All she's told me: dinner parties, Table d'hôte and à la carte. I'm still a filly after all. Was all my fire just folderol? Mother says she'll meet me there When my dresses pay the fare I find that life is rarely fair. The shipping company sends The details of mother's end Packaged in an envelope: A storm too strong for any hope. I have nightmares of the ocean for two weeks. Hondo tells me I've been crying in my sleep. I move into her empty atelier. I find a kind of peace there. Cookie Crumbles moves into my foalhood home ten moons later and I close the book on family for a decade. The light returns, it always does. It's kind of like a mother's love. She's still here in the Boutique Honing her daughter's technique. So carry on like work's a ghost And I: its unwilling host; Commissions keep rolling in There's no time to be maudlin. I learn what stallions adore: Where lace gives way to metaphor How low skirts hang past the fetlocks How high socks sit upon the hocks. Then: a party invitation! From the summit of our nation! It's neither Galloping nor Grand, But it's got nobles and a band. And more follow, in a tizzy, All the waltzes make me dizzy. This is what it's all been for, Dinner with this 'charming' boor— Settle down, Rarity. Mustn't spurn nobility. Find your prince, marry young, become what you're meant to be. Lift your hopes, close your eyes, think of Prance. I have never been to Prance. He doesn't even write me back. Try again, harder now, ladies don't wear furrowed brows, Mares are pretty, gorgeous, beauty— Stallions are handsome. How can I become a mare Without mother to guide me there? Find a sort of rhythm in Successes and rejections While artistically I soar Socially I'm through the floor. She finds me buried in my work. Glory, isn't she a mess? Protégé of the Princess Somehow lacking etiquette A makeover is requisite. I learn why you shy away: You toil for every scrap of praise. But though you work so many wonders, You're more than what you are for others. Nopony's told you how pretty— Settle down, Rarity. Of course you see what she cannot. It's your job. So I meet the other five We've weaved through each other's lives Now the threads have been pulled taut We're all tighter than a knot Stay a little out of reach. Never join them at the beach. The Gala! Grand and galloping! Dream of veils and wedding rings. If Prince Charming isn't here, Then I'll just marry my career! Stare through a donut's empty hole And wonder how it's seen as whole. Stitch and stitch and stitch and stitch And bitch and whine and moan and bitch And even still you cannot learn You never get what you don't earn. Don't see friends, work through midnight Throw that out, it isn't right Laziness is unbecoming You can still be good for something. "Whisky's just as good as thread," Something else my mother said. I think I get now what she meant. Lest it come undone. Hah. Swear off alcohol forever. Luckily, Twilight's there, Holding back my uncoiffed hair, Whispering "you'll be okay," Things mother would never say. A lifetime holding yourself together leaves you unprepared to fall apart. Take it slow, do what you can, Primrose, auburn, azure, tan. Gift some dresses to some friends, Rose, coral, persimmon. Heliotrope, burgundy. Lilac, mauve, mulberry. Lavender, wisteria, Orchid, amethyst, and her. It's fine to have a slight obsession, Ladder-climbing's my profession! If only she could see me now: A Princess wears my ballroom gowns. But all the adulation From the finest of the nation Doesn't give me satiation Like the beauty of her smile. So here I am with company Of breeding and nobility Sipping sparkling apple juice And bored out of my mind. I search for foalish fantasies That my mother sold to me But her advice sounds different When it's a stallion giving it. Refuse to give him what he desires. Smile less and take more clients. And so Twilight is going home. How could she leave me here alone? My joy for her should be unfettered Why does it bring to mind that letter? Stitch By stitch By stitch. Itch And itch And itch. Carousels across the country, Selling fashions grand and sundry. 'Happily ever after' Racks me with bitter laughter. Admit it one day to the mirror How could it be any clearer? There is no prince out there for me. My mother's dead as dead can be. Canterlot repeats, a rhyme Galas aren't the jewel this time Adorning my dreams every night All my thoughts are of Twilight. She still has that giggle-snort That turned humor into a sport Of chasing her to breathlessness... And I thought that was friendliness. Joy curdles to misery; She'd have to stoop to kiss me. What could a Princess ever see In one who's going gray? Mother, I still know the cure For a heart that has endured Emptiness and disappointment: Labor was her favored ointment. Stitch by stitch and follow through and every day I think of you and fashion lines and bright interns she isn't mine and I'm not hers and yarn and thread and yearn and fret and Mother still inside my head a deep ocean inside my heart so hem it or you'll fall apart— I often go to Canterlot (Since all the couture there is haute.) There is a guest room in the castle Twilight says that it's no hassle. She escorts me to functions, I join her at her luncheons. When she does her astral duties, I can't help but talk of beauty. She begs me, "Stay a little longer," Were I still young, I would be stronger Enough to not return her plea: "How long will you be having me?" "Forever." Stitch by stitch, I always say. What else is there but day by day? I can only be myself I'm glad I'm not somepony else. The beach is warm this time of year. Beneath me: sand and froth and fear Beside me stands a patient lover Twilight, darling, meet my mother. Author's Note comphet rarity my beloved... my personal equestria doesn't have the heteronormative pressure required to actually form her but she's canon to me anyways. this one's also got my other weird headcanon: rarity's birth mother, belle. you just cannot convince me rarity turned out like that with solely hondo whatever and cookie crumbles as influence. poetry is hard. AABB instead of ABAB wasn't a smart choice! rhyming and meter is like swimming in your clothes: it sounds like such a fun idea to start with, but then it soaks through and starts dragging you down, and even when you get out of the water you're soaked with the embarrassment of rhyming dictionaries and monosyllabic -ee words. if i write more pony poetry, it'll be freeform so i can focus more on imagery!