From where poetry doesn't exist any longer

by HamletBecauseWhyNot

Summary:

Bad poerty that only exists in the middle of the night

Chapter 1: Midnight rambling about someone who doesn't exist

I love her like I love the salt in my food

(Yes this is a reference to a little story)

I love her like I love the music that plays in my house in the middle of the night

(It’s usually Queen or Coldplay)

 

I miss her like I miss my grandfather

(He is someone I can't remember)

I miss her like that book I never found again

(It was a story about a little fox)

 

I hate her like I hate the taste of fish

(I sometimes throw it into the trash can when my parents aren’t looking)

I hate her like I hate social gatherings

(I always suffer panic attacks)

 

I miss the version of myself that exists when I’m around her but i hate it too.