Desperate

My eyes could not read fast enough,
the words you scribbled out on the page.
I read them over and over again,
hoping that the kind sentiments you spewed before
would somehow manifest into something real.
You said such nice things,
and yet your actions speak another language.
There is this certain amount of coldness
that heavily weighs on your shoulders.
It brings your whole life down. It sinks your whole soul.

I feel my life draining from my fingertips
as I realize what exactly you were truly saying.
I just add it to another heartbreak.
Throw the paper on the growing pile of let downs.

They say that in order to make it
you have to have a thick skin.
It has to bounce off of you like it never happened.
I'm frightened to let that happen.
Because if I get a thick skin,
maybe I won't feel anything anymore.
Including love.