I just want curves that soften an angry face and harden other things.

I am Melissa. I live in the actual City of Seattle. I am 18. I am heart broken. 

I want to cry, I want to take pain away by powerful means

I am older, I am not wiser.

I have experience to prove that no one is worth my feelings. No one here is worth involving myself with. I have to accept this and move on.

College is so hard, knowing that this new life does not come with a new relationship. I am still me and people are still people; I cannot change people's perceptions of myself.

Paintbrush

If I could even get my heart to touch the tips of your hands, a graze would comfort its throbbing. My limbs go limp, knocking knees and falling down endless paths into the dark away from all I have ever known of you. The more I fall due to your cause, the farther distance grows when reaching you. Will you or would you ever reach out to me? Would your lips ever have chance to stroke onto my cheek like brushes on a canvas? My cheek is that canvas that needs beauty painted upon it, and your lips are the brushes that create masterpieces. I feel so vain when loving in lust.