I’m tarnished like paint, 

making my soul go awry. 

The brush of your ambidextrous pointer finger along my chest makes me feel,

regret.

I gave myself to someone harmful, once before.

I don’t know if I could ever go back and relive these experiences,

with you I find something more joyous. 

I know not everyone or even myself will find the ending love

Or find value in small things. 

But now 

this moment makes me feel,

more than something.

Your nose brushes upon mine, 

stirring emotions I never wished to feel again. 

Everyone wants something, do I fall in the category of don’t want?

Don’t want, what? To be disappointed?

And so with that I leave you this,

Tempestuous way of living.