the loneliest piece of fruit

i want to scream to the world, sometimes, that not being in love really isn’t that bad. my voice isn’t thick enough to break through this canvas yet, though. for now i am still the girl you painted. i guess that is supposed to make me feel lucky.

mostly it just makes me feel used.

and this is not the first time i have been plastered down with oil paint. years go by, but i always look the same. the smallest peach in the bowl of fruit wearing the biggest bruise.

i want to scream to the world, always, that i’m sorry. i didn’t choose to be this soft.