I used to babble to you about every fear and insecurity.
You used to remind me to "just breathe"
And now, I've been holding my breath for far too long.
Lungs can only be so strong.
What's funny is I used to be used to being alone.
I used to be able to breathe on my own.
But you became a sort of personal ventilator.
It feels as if I'm riding an escalator that only goes down.
And I don't know how I'll make it without you around.
I became dependent on you.
And as descendants of not so great relatives.
You're my only family who dwells in a corner of my heart.
You Calling me family was a start but I can think of many things thicker than blood.
Like the thick sound of heartbreak when you fall to your knees with a thud. Or the thickness of the air that's filled my lungs since
You told me you didn't love me. don't you get how badly that stung?
Now do you understand the reasoning behind how tightly I clung?
I'm so tired of being alone. All that I want is just to go home but home was in your arms and it's winter and I'm afraid you would no longer keep me warm.
Stop saying you love me, Your "love's" in the wrong form.
© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn