Skinny Love

On the days that I have tried everything and it still isn’t working. There I end up, sobbing and shaking like a rain drop

clinging on to the bottom of a gutter

not quite ready to let go.

I’m stuck asking; what is the point?

I am searching for a connection to show me that there is something more,

like a drainpipe for all the disappointment that pours

out of me.

I want to be right about something.

And yes, I always wanted to be right more than I wanted you

but right now I am wet paper and dry ink

I can’t write about anything but you .

I can’t connect the dots from all the love that I’ve lost.

You loved me like I was a battle worn brick wall

I wanted to be impenetrable

but you loved me for the damage that had been done.

And you thought you’d love me forever

but expectations are just resentments under construction.

Now thinking about your joy is a crime and my heart’s the one to blame

your fake sweetness doesn’t weigh as heavy on my heart as the sugar of your love that I left behind.

Now I am honey in hot water

I will melt into you no matter how bitter you become.

Bring all my insignificant lovers to the slaughterhouse

feed them my vulnerability

right before you shoot them right in between the eyes that saw what I could have been.

It seems you’re stuck on who I was

I’m stuck on who I’m gonna be

reality is probably somewhere in between

letting go and holding on.

Letting go, it is not holding your hand palm down

and letting everything and everyone you ever loved fall to the ground

no letting go is holding your hand palm up

and convincing your fingers to not curl in and grip onto what used to be

or who you used to be.

The sweat in my palms sprint for my fingertips

just as the tip of my tongue sprints from my lips

I can’t tell you who I am anymore.

I used to admire you like an uncut diamond

loving you for your sparkle without worrying about your worth.

Now diamonds put pressure onto us to make something of ourselves.

Roses have thorns that stick into our clothes and beg us not to go.

Books gather dust just as screens gather us

and we’re watching who we could be instead of being who we are.

My buddy tells me not to get caught too deep

but I’ve gone deeper into you than I’ve ever seen into myself.

My buddy tells me to not talking about the growing gap in between my thighs and yours

but your thighs are the closest thing to happiness that I have ever known.

I howled for you, but I only ever looked out for me

I am the top dog in my lonely pack

it is too bad I only feel as strong as my weakest moments.

But they say that if you truly love someone; tell them

I say if they do not believe you; then show them.

Right now all that I can see are our shadows

the sorry’s that we’ve suppressed so much that we forgot they are still following us.

Beach ball projections of our problems popping up

we play whack-a-mole with our insecurities all lined up

and you talk of my mental illness as if it is that friend that always takes the comfiest spot on the couch.

You tell me that you are going on a diet

because you need to cleanse yourself from eating up all of my false promises.

I say late night stores are convenient when I want to give up on myself.

I am eating Dare-free as in I am staying in my comfort zone.

An apple a day will keep the “I miss you” texts away

but my thoughts have gone rotten to the point that I become spinning tires in apple sauce

a sinner starving at the cross

I die and then come back after the 3 days it takes you to text me back.

I am a cinnamon heart

star crossed and starving

I create a crucifix to convince myself

that without you I am just a kid who is standing in front of a vending machine and can’t afford his favourite candy bar.

And you. You are a glass shattering rescue team.

The woman in my world who helps me wonder about a safer space

where the moon is no longer a martyr

but rather it lights up a path.

To follow it would be to walk on water.

That is to say that

it would take a miracle

for you to love me again.

Author: becomingchristopher

20 something year old writing about an ever growing curiosity surrounding the presence of happiness.

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