Calluses

You would have loved me before, back when I was kind. Gods, I wish you could’ve known me then.

You would have loved me before, when I was gentle. I see the way you flinch as I reach to caress your face. I figure you’ve grown weary of the way my fingertips feel against it. The calluses that have formed on them over the years are hard and rough. I doubt that it’s pleasant. I am truly sorry.

You would have loved me before I learned loss. I hang on too tight now. The bruising left upon your skin never fails to make my own crawl with guilt. I never learned when to let go. The monsters in my head cling to me the way I do to you. I wonder sometimes, if I’m starting to become one of yours. Do I scare you, love? Are you afraid?

You would have loved me when I was still warm. I had a smile as bright as the sun, you know. I made people feel good. The love would just radiate from me. Now, I hold my hands over your heart, praying that it could help stave off the frostbite threatening to freeze me where I stand and turn me cold and unfeeling. Maybe I’ll wither away before I infect you too.

You would have loved me before I knew hurt. We’re so familiar now that I can say I’ve mastered the art of it. My tongue, my sharpest weapon. My hands, deadly by nature. I didn’t mean to cut you.

Please believe me.