Counter productive confusion

I know this beautiful woman who thinks she's shielding herself from hurt; instead she's shielding her heart from herself

Becoming overly insecure in her thoughts of "securing" herself from others 

Convincing herself she's never ready and no one will suffice because she hasn't allowed herself to grow and heal from past pain

She wears the double sided shield. Ricocheting mistrust, failures weapons, and confusion back into herself. 

Counter productive confusion; all twisted

 Flaunting those cheery inviting smiles & rescinding back into her shell at the merest approach; rebutting all advances; charismatic trickery

Charismatically tricking her own conscience into a broken infiltrated confidence

I prayed for her again selfishly... Selfishly wishing to save her from herself so she could be free from her past loves crabs in a barrel function; her soul and hearts confusion filling the barrel... Lovely love borderline semi-permanently lost 

Loves Old Canvas

Loves old Canvas

Canvas' up... visiting madam old love. Recreating the imagery of our most adored days. Painting adoration's emotion with every stroke, memories of breast strokes, distinctions in emotional chokes, and unopened envelops personifying relationships.

I recreated imagery

I painted emotion

I found my niche in this un-licked seal

Home in the natural habitat of the untold lesbian love story

The figurative nudity of this canvas... Exposed and baring it all... Secrets painted in script

Love had lost the riches of its palace but still maintained its purity

Bland and exposed; the deepest of expressions; baring concealed eruptive combustion's

Dear Reader,

I wanted you to know I broke my canvas out that you were so adamant on surprising me with. Instead of a paint brush I grabbed my calligraphy pen to have this one way pen pal chat with you. I've been reluctant to express how I've missed you. I rubbed my clit against my sheets continuously only to desire your feel more. I tried not to dream you yet my dreams were you; realistic... many days I felt your kiss in my sleep.

Often bike riding down smooth pathways on the handle bars to your missed arms. 

.... .... .... ..... ....

The canvas stopped at the torn edges

Round table discussions emerged in my vision

This seal left open to add yet another letter

Boxes of this canvas paper; each time abrupt endings

I recreated the imagery of the love I shouldn't miss

Of the love I craved with my heart and mind being on the opposite of cheering sections

My niche in a former fallacy all dismantled

Dear old love.... I painted flames today... on loves old canvas

*another letter unsent*