Paint the town Red

It's late, and I am so tired,
but my mood is mired in thoughts of loneliness.
The emptiness that I haven't been able to fill.
I lack will in reclaiming my independence.

I look at my last few months and ask forgiveness
of myself for the decisions I have made.
It's like a hurricane of soul searching.
And learning, and falling.

Knee scraping is something I have become reacquainted with,
and it's a gift from God that I am even clear minded in this.

A kiss from a stranger with cold eyes and even colder hands
who demands of you more than you are willing to give?
This isn't what it means to live in passion.

A caress from a friend who is crossing a boundary,
the legendary silence stretches,
the concern and trepidation etches in both our faces.
Tears trace down my face because I know I am confused.

I am losing myself in my desire to fill the hole.

There is a person with kind eyes, a warm smile,
handsome to a fault,
and I feel scared that I am going to fall again,
but not in the good way.

It's okay to explore, they said.
But that didn't mean paint the town red,
and I dread the chance that I may go a path
I can't return from.