it's hard for me
to say these things
decoded and requoted
insights from my favorite poetry
what makes you think you could love someone like me?
what makes you think i'd allow these things?
at the bare minimum
i don't feel anything
nothing but the inevitable
i hate to say i told you so
but all books end badly
when i write them
the characters love so madly
and hardly see
that it's sad
it's not love
it's a bond of lonely bones
you don't love me, nor are we in love
it's not enjoyable when love is supposedly an action
and we don't act much, do we?
well i do
i do
and i don't say this to spite you
someday soon
there won't be tomorrow
or next time
there might not be anymore of me left to ignore or forget
there's no such thing as neglect
when there is no girl you love
left
