Un-Artistic Line Art Poem by Diana Shaw

Dear compass,
why can't I use your perfect point,
and metal grip
to draw circles,
instead of tattooing my skin
with un-artistic line art?

Why was it,
that when I first met you,
I couldn't wait to start.
I couldn't wait
to feel the
deep
connection that lied ahead of us.

You are the perfect lover.
You never complain
or protest when I make you do things.
You help me take out my anger
on someone who deserves it.

But of course,
my imperfection drives you away once my pain is gone.
Leaving the feeling of a deep burn
where you once cared for me so.
But you always come back.
You're always are there for me when I need you most,
when I feel unloved,
lost.
When no one else is.