Holding on

Holding on with both hands,
As if I were to let go and fall to my death.
Suddenly only 9 fingers remain holding on.
It sure is hard to hold on so tight.
I remember that first day I saw you
I didn’t know who you were or what you did,
But then again I didn’t care.
8 fingers remain holding on.
I remember our first conversation.
You seemed frightened,
And I felt eager.
7 fingers holding on.
I didn’t think I was your type
And I figured it couldn’t be possible for you to want me.
6 fingers.
I remember the first time I was alone with you.
Both of us were terrified to make the first move,
So we lay next to each other all night—no words,
No touch, no anything.
5 fingers.
Whenever we are in the same room together
It gives me joy to know that we have a secret.
A secret between us that no one will ever understand.
4 fingers.
I remember the first time we were intimate.
It was gentle and rough, and new and exciting.
3 fingers.
I remember the first time you flaked on me.
And at first it didn’t hurt that much.
It only started to hurt once I realized this would be a regular thing with you.
2 fingers.
And it then occurred to me that this would never work.
That I would forever be second.
That you may never hold my hand in public
And that I would forever remain your secret.
1…finger…left…lingering.
I tried to look past everything.
But I don’t think I can.
I still don’t know what you want from me.
And you definitely don’t know how much I have given up for you.
And just as I am unsure, you will never know the way I felt about you.

I feel that if I were to reach up, and stretch,
My other hand may be able to latch back on.
But instead, I am choosing to let go.
No longer shall I hold on by a solitary finger.
And then…expecting to fall…I flew.