six months ago, if someone hugged me i would have cried. i would have burst like a red balloon with its skin stretched too tightly over too much air.
i would have let out a sob like a puncture wound and my whole body would have deflated and curled in on it’s self.
i would have been a useless swath of limp rubber in their arms.
i was so starved for any kind of intimacy that a strangers shoulder bumping into mine on the stairs made my throat close up and my eyes burn
those were the days i thought i was dying
i felt my body on autopilot and knew it didn’t need me
so i sat back and watched everything unfold
and hoped to hell i’d make it out