Immature Hearts

Violins

For the first time, I heard violins. My whole life has been a symphony, I just wasn't paying attention. I was lost in your eyes and your stories that I forgot about mine. String by string, you wrapped your fingers around my heart. And they were soft. I listened to your song and it took me out of the reality I was in.

Pluck.

The first red flag. Using your delicate words to try and find the key to my chamber. I let you in because I wanted to. You mirrored my energy and I felt our building connection.

              Pluck.

I misread the situation. What I saw as a budding romance, you saw as an escape from yourself. I saw a beautiful man and you saw an instrument. Something to fetishize.

   Pluck.

I trusted that you could handle vulnerability. Yours and mine. And so I gave you space. I needed it too. To figure out why I was so latched onto you. The reasons were out of reach, replaced by worry and doubt. You asked me what I wanted in a man while knowing you were the complete opposite. You lured me into a lion's den just to tell me you can't be my boyfriend. All of the connecting and flirting between us was a false sense of intimacy. An illusion. And just like that, you left.

I hope the sounds of violins will remind you of what we could've been. You told me you're a messy failure and now I know why. You reach out to younger girls just so they can boost your ego when you cry.