Our love was always skinny. Always starving itself - wasting away to nothing. It was never an easy love, never a love that conquered.

Our love always ran across the sidewalk, slipping into cracks, disappearing.

Our love was fleeting.

Our love was confusing, forced. Our love always took sides. But most of all, our love was always skinny.

~

Our love seemed anything but skinny. Always growing - flourishing. It was always an easy love, a love that stole away sorrow.

Our love was a breeze, light and free, enveloping.

Our love was everlasting.

Our love was hypnotizing, a dream. Our love was always the answer. But most of all, our love seemed anything but skinny.

Until I wiped the sleep from beneath silky lids and realized that skinny love is the only love I have ever known.

~

My love was always skinny. Always forced.

My love was heavy with denial and deceit.

My love was a chameleon - blending in with whomever was there.

When the sun rose, shedding delicate rays on the truth, my love was never really love at all but a need for companionship, a hand to hold my heavy heart.

~

All my love was wasted.
And who the hell am I?