Have you ever noticed how thick our skin is?
It holds everything together, the flesh the fluid the bone
The heap of rotting emotions and tears that have not yet fallen
The promises we never intend to keep, to others or to ourselves
The words we hear inflicted on our ears by force of entry
And yet it heals itself after the paper cuts and the bruises
Have you ever noticed how thick our bones are?
It holds everything up, the flesh the fluid the organs
The world leaning gently on our shoulders
The knots and bumps that cover our skin and sag down to find solitude
The squeezes and punches and pinches and itches that shiver down the spine
And yet, they heal when they break
Have you ever noticed how thin our hearts are?
They hold the blood and pump it out like a rapid assembly line
It holds the words you spoke to me in vain as I walked out the door
It holds the sight of your lips locked with my best friends on New Year's Eve
It holds the nativity and the innocence, though there isn't much left to be held
It holds the truths, no matter how harsh, it holds the "you're not good enough" 's
The "I don't want you" 's, the "you're just a little girl" 's
The "I don't love you" 's, the let me laugh while you cry's, the I know what I'm doing's
The no I won't stop's, the memories and the broken glasses and the s***s and the damns
The late night calls that I didn't understand, the vodka and the cigarettes
And the "Maybe I would love you if you weren't such a priss, try it" 's
The mood swings and fists swinging and the "You know I would never hurt you intentionally" 's
And the grabs and the pulls and the squishes and slaps and taste of blood on your kisses
The tempting notions to leave and never come back and the gentle call from the bed
Of "No one else is going to want you" 's and of "Who would want you if I don't" 's
And the reluctant steps back the corner and the doors slammed in my face
And the waiting and wondering and wishing someone could see through it
And the shaking hands and the wobbling lips and the "No everything's fine"
And the fake stories and fake names and made up places
And the gentle falling out of I don't need you anymore
The Molly, or Maggie, or whatever the hell her name was
And the solitude I found sagging down into the shoulder of my pillow
Breathing because it was finally over like a race I could never finish
And yet it still hasn't healed
The cuts won't close and bruises and breaks won't heal
It still hasn't healed