Just another draft

Ethereal, you don't say
you can make the words float
but at night, you won't.

And I felt you all warm and dark
on my skin in the park

And I felt you all hot and bothered --
bedroom fodder

You know so much more than me
but you'd like to think
you don't know anything
no, no.

He calls me artist, what a farce
I'm just a hot, hot mess
with an unpainted face
in a cotton summer dress.

and it's layers, like a painting
covering up the last to get to the next
sacrifice the beginning
for a new ending

but I don't feel the same
but I don't feel the same

I'll let it flow back into me
I'll let you sing, sing, sing
but I'm barely listening

This time not focusing on the words
but just the melody.

I'm washing you out of my hair
untucking your name from my underwear
oh, no. oh no?
Just go.