Love is like a Pollack Painting

It doesn't matter where you are:
settled down, an emotional wreck,
or confident as fuck.
It hurts.
And to answer your question:
Yes. I feel ashamed,
going back as far as I can
remember.

Giving emotionally to someone not
of blood relation can be embarrassing
because it's not logical.
It doesn't look good; messes you up.
Are we just bipeds in a reality show
created by God?
It feels that way.
Hopefully it beats Tila Tequila's car crash.

Love smells sweet, but tastes bitter.
It's the vanilla I use making french toast
on special mornings.
The smell is good, but the taste is awful.
I don't know why I lick it off my finger.
I think the taste might change someday
but it doesn't.

I thought love's scent would evaporate off the couch
in my heart like using Febreze where the dog sleeps.

It's faded, but there's butt impressions like sinkholes
that won't go away.
There's artwork, too.
My heart has a love seat, excuse the pun, and while my exes sat,
I took a paintbrush and outlined their body on the wall
like a lab tech does with chalk.
The result was one super boyfriend with no clear definition
and he keeps growing.

That living room is disorderly but
I can be anywhere and see it clearly:
sipping coffee in my room or chugging beer at the bar.
Aesthetics are a good thing.
They keep us alive.
Being judicious is healthy so long as you
continue to care about others.

Now when I fall in love, I put down the brush and
admire my artwork.
No more outlines.
Abstract beauty is subjective.
People claim five-year olds can paint like
Jackson Pollack did, but I have yet to see fingerpainting
as delicate as Lavender Mist.*

* Pollack's Lavender Mist is pictured above.

Coldplay - The Scientist

"Nobody said it was easy. It's such a shame for us to part.
Questions of science. Science and progress do not speak as loud as my heart"