the boy jumped over the moon
They told me falling in love would be easy, smooth. But I'm the kid that would insist on running full speed wherever, whenever. My arms and legs were a museum of broken blood vessels, gravel missiles, and skin stained a permanent green. Smooth was never a setting my body could contort itself to.
So I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised when I found it hard to fall in love with you. Your coarse lips that would make mine bleed, and my funny way of walking two steps ahead of you, we were an unlikely match to begin with.
You clashed with my family, my music, the rain. On holidays you would wash laundry and turn on bad reruns just to have a screen to stare at while you were a million miles away. I often wanted to look through the mail slot of your mind to catch a glimpse of the world living inside you. I never asked if I could get that close, so I never did.
Then one day you got sick. A heavy dose of depression so thick it formed smog. "This changes everything doesn't it?"