I want to write a love poem
I want to write a love song
I want to write a love anything but it all falls on deaf ears, so instead I write about money and drugs and bitter loneliness that rarely compliments but often accompanies the others
I should have told you to keep my shirt and P.J.'s because now I'm disgusted by the sight of them because I wanted to give you my love anything but all you took was money and drugs and left me with bitter loneliness that does, in fact, compliment a great many things but most of all compliments itself
And besides they looked better on you anyway
My love anything could clear the smog, stop the nukes, most of all make you happy
I can either drown myself in the misery hidden between shower curtains and brick walls or I can drink happiness smoke happiness shoot happiness into my arm
I suppose that sums it up:
We think happiness is beautiful but we don't think the that about things that make us happy
You made me happy.