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“Yeah, It’s Pretty Much A Love Hate Thing…”
you are never there for me
you take, take, want, and take some more
and you NEVER give back
and still I keep you around
folded in my wallet,
you leak a sticky-sweet-substance-filled-with-lies
into my pockets
you stare at me at 2am,
a blank shadow
blocking the light
of my computer screen
you sit,
and stare,
and smile,
and want,
and take
occasionally I can bring your softness to my lips
breathing in your sick profanities, making my eyes and nostrils burn;
and I like it
folding pale arms around your pages of quantities unknown
occasionally it’s reachable—
that nirvana that takes me away, that’s when you smile
you know you’ve charmed me—
(my love for writing and reading)
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