Who says I can't get out of here ??

I'm here, again, writing through a heartbreak.

I paint when content, and write during difficulties.

Women and art have conflicted in me.

Time makes it, eventually, one or the other.

A game, I feel them love, via manipulation.

Sensing, becoming insecure, trying to understand

pressure, holding my attention.

The diversion fades to black.

I say in my defence “that love is not a game”.