He asked me how I didn't hate him
He asked me how I was still clinging
After all he'd done to me
"Well," I said,
"Honestly, I kinda fucking hate you.
I kind of!
Really!
Fucking!
Hate you!
But I still love you.
What am I supposed to do?"
YOU ARE READING
🍊NOVEMBER 2018🍊
PoetryAn illustrated book of poems every month in 2018! Here's everything from November!
