Thin

I cannot afford to grow attached to anything or anyone.  My once thickened skin has begun growing seemingly thin.  Leaving holes in my exterior, allowing everything I have tried to stay away from, start to find its way back in.  These little rips along my surface begin to tear myself apart.  Breaking me into thousands of tiny pieces, that will never fit perfectly together again inside my heart.  I’m losing this hand that life has dealt me, but I’m not the cheating kind.  So I’ll sit here, losing this again, leaving all of this behind.  I will never count on anything that I can’t hold in my hands.  Most lies that you’ve told me ran through my fingers like water through dry sands.  I need something stable, and your rocky boat isn’t what I had in mind.  So alone I must stay, because I am just the hurting kind.

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