Paint Job

It’s strange, this feeling…
these feelings that are burning
within, from an unknown point,
a genesis unfamiliar.
You aren’t supposed to paint
my insides like this,
like you can see clear right
through to my depths,
my unknowns that I have sought to hide
for eons and ages.
I thought you were half-knocking,
and I thought I could handle letting
you in for a short, unaffected time.
I was wrong.
It’s strange, this feeling…
you make me feel for you
what I know I shouldn’t
because all you shall do is
paint my insides with
heartbreak and pain and
the bitter taste of
your soon-to-come goodbye.

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