Dating : I am not okay

I am trying to be

so others won’t see,

the knives, digging at my soul,

the oh my god I have been a fool, playing in my head,

we spoke of sable brushes and butterfly kisses

and now that hardly seems to have been a real thing

the new me would do.

The new me listens to songs entitled Hustle Grind Repeat;

as she works for herself till the madly silent early hours;

She wears boyfriend jeans,

defiant in a place where jeans are spray painted on,

a Fidel Cap in army green, the seahorse tattoos on bare hands inside her ring finger and her middle finger,

bare testimony to her views on monogamy,

a plea for reincarnation in the next life,

to truly experience real fucking Disney forever — isn’t that what we all hope for truth?