I don't hate him.
We're good friends sometimes.
But other times,
We're really not.
And unfortunately,
There are more "other times"
Then "sometimes"
I don't hate everything about him
Only His hips,
His arms,
His legs,
His stomach,
His face,
His hair,
His hands.
Sometimes I wanted to punch him,
Or kick him.
I couldn't do that though.
Because the mirror would break.
YOU ARE READING
Sugar Sweet
Poetryis it sugar sweet? (context: the date these were posted is not true. I began this in 2021, and some chapters are out of date due to me returning to this and deleting parts to replace them with something else.)
