You were always skinny.

always turning away
always hiding your face
always twisting your frame

You were always more than skinny,
not quite thin,
not frail
not flimsy
but more than just skinny.

Turning to the side,
I saw you;
as the light caught my eye,
I lost you
in between the rays of sun
you hid,
as invisible as a smile
when one’s back is turned.

You disappeared,
you folded in on yourself,
you were more than skinny;
you were a magic act.

Now we see you-
now we don’t-

and that’s the story I’m sticking to.

And years passed,
and time ran by,
and seasons turned
and so you grew,
bulky
and strong
and proud in the torso,
capable in the arms,
different to the eyes
of those who paid no attention.

But to me you never changed.

Shoulders, still bowed,
like broken wings folding inwards;

Neck, still twisting,
escaping,

Face still shadowed,
still turned down to the ground

always turning away
always hiding your face
always twisting your frame

Never straight.
You were always skinny,
so easily bent,
so easily silenced,
so easily spent;
so strong yet so tired,
wired for work
but never for play.

Any day now
I expect you to turn
and disappear
between the cracks of the sunlight,
like a sheet of paper evades
real existence,
you will evade my persistence,
my insistence
that you could be more.

More than just skinny,
more than frail,
more than flimsy,
more than strong,
more than broken,
more than fixed;
more than lying.

You were always skinny,
always two steps behind;
but you were more than just skinny
in my mind.