I am falling. Slipping out of my skin and moving into your veins. Leaving nothing but my shadow and my pity behind. The shell that was once me is being devoured by society -eaten alive. (And I don't want to go back)
The me now, is different. And I hope you don't mind that I am different. Because, I don't care if you scream it at the top of your lungs. I have changed. I am so different -new.
I am the clay and you are the sculptor. You are creating your own version of me. And I am not going to stop you now, after almost a year I am almost finished. Plus, it's not like I liked the old me anyways. I am just going to warn you that when you put my heart in the kiln to dry, make sure it's just how you want it because I will never change again.
I will forever spend Sunday nights thinking of your soft hands and how you're terrible at playing with hair. I will swindle my way through school thinking about if you sculpted me just a few sizes smaller, those boys at the table over wouldn't whisper when I walk past.
Oh, and please be gentle with me. I am fragile. And if I break I don't think that there is any fixing me with glue. Only love. And if you are gone and I have no on else's love to fix me then I will be broken until I find another sculptor. And I am afraid that you are my only one.
-k.r.m.h.
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>Uh, so this is what happens when you really want to write but cannot find any time. And then your Mom leaves you at the house. I hope you liked it. It is kind of everywhere. But, I really love this one a lot. Thank you for not skipping it because it was long.
