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she only told me she loved me after i told her that i couldn’t do it anymore
i wondered if she only loved me because i bent the way she liked
i was rubber
she was metal
i clung to her like a partially safe stairway
twists and turns and curves that drive me insane
my hands down her waist
and her hair on my neck
like fucking silk
tied in knots that choke me in my deep sleep
but at least my dreams are so much better now

she picked me
like a child is handed a balloon of a dark red that others admire
but you can’t quite see the worth of something that was given so easily
you’re told not to let it go because then it won’t be yours anymore
and you’ll be damned before someone else calls me theirs
and that made me blush and crumble in your hands
until i realized being yours was equivalent to mountain climbing without a rope
sky diving without a parachute
so fucking dangerous that the thrill excites you
you love the air
and the mountain
and you trust that something so fucking beautiful couldn’t hurt you
until you fall as you choke on your screams
“i thought you loved me”
and the sad thing is she’ll stand there looking down saying, “i do”
and only once you’ve crashed will she say, “…i think”

but no one told me that words so special could be spoken like a piano played with drumsticks
like a ring on a mannequin finger, like a plate that shatters on your kitchen floor into two perfect pieces…
you hear the same thing, you hear it over and over, you’re so used to hearing it that you forget what she’s saying is different from what’s being heard

so my sweaty palms became forever content with reaching out to a nonexistent hand to hold
but i swore you were there
much like my imaginary friend who i once asked to keep my balloon safe on my 8th birthday
a slow calm came over me as I watched the redness float into the sky
as i realized some things you love the most are only real to you.

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