you taught me to swim
so I wouldn’t drown
just enough,
enough to keep my head up
I felt your hand on my stomach
holding me up
but you were king of letting go
so I hated you the most
I guess you were trying me out
just seeing if I could ride it out
and I did, but
you said I’d never be enough
I’ll always be skirting the edge
afraid you’ll stay away
afraid you wont come and stay
I’ll always be skirting the edge
just enough to keep my head up
skirting the edge,
trying to give you up.
The art of spilling over 
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