More Than Skinny

A poem about change and growing up.

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.

The End

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