paint or pen

just fuck this when i am filled with a forest fire

and you cant feel anything you deem worth while

you said for the first few weeks i swept you off your feet

but the attention exposed where you were chaffed from the previous

some other girl rubbed you raw

in a way that made you feel cold like metal and red like rust

and i know my pen is more delicate

than the way you make a name for yourself

but i have met where you are sensitive

and have never felt more connected

and i have a feeling that some unexpected things are more permanent

you are fresh in that you are in a new beginning

my heartache is fresh and consistent

because when i look in the mirror, i still have my father's curly ringlets

and the heart that goes along with resenting the resemblance

i recognize i torture myself with the same longing for connection

respond by drowning myself in some sort of a depressant

anything to alter my stagnant vision

when i wasnt surprised anymore after the age of seven
i learned to be more comfortable naked
because my skin was bruised from too much attention

then you didnt kiss me until four dates in
and promised all this bullshit
that i actually believed
or i dont know, maybe i just wanted to...
i fell harder even as i was leaving
when you told me not to do anything that doesnt make me happy again

i dont know how to open up until the last moment

or expect my poetry to mean more than i show it

???