You.
Threw me the rope, urged me to hold on.
I did.
For the first time ever.
Wrapped it around my body,
Knotted it with these hands,
didn't want it to be loose.
Thought you didn't want that either.
Maybe you didn't.
You stepped away,
I was pulled in,
the rope harsh on my stomach.
You pulled me to everywhere, my body moulding,
Finding comfort in the bounds of the uncomfortable yarn.
But the comfort was the yarn,
The rest was my skin.
I held on, praying.
Heard, I was.
For a fraction.
And then the tug,
Too powerful, the rope snapped.
I fell hard, bruises all over my body.
But the wounds went unnoticed
Like the numbness in my fingers.
The scars run deep and I can't find an antidote.
I'm lucky, yet, I'm not.
And it's you.
I know it's you.
But you don't.
You never will.