It always left me unsettled, these short romances that somehow seemed to find me,
Sometimes in cafés of a new city as the rain grew steady,
On rare occasions in streets of a strange land.
Sometimes in the midst of a stormy heartbreak,
When I was desperately trying to hold on to a sinking boat and out of
no where a hand pulled me safely to the shore.
All these loves brought me to life, but eventually tore me apart.
They expected a complete picture, a landscape of bright blue skies,
of flowers and happiness,
That right there was the problem,
Because I was just an abstract piece of art.