I hate my memory
When it notices the date is a six,
Because that's the day we built a love out of sticks.
I hate my hair
When it's long enough to flutter down to my chest,
Because that's when you thought it looked the best.
I hate my songs
When one that I edited the lyrics of plays,
Because it reminds me of those happy days.
I hate my words
When they remind me of yours,
Because they can make a person crawl on all fours.
I hate my mood
When it reminds me of how I felt dealing with you,
Because my face is red with rage but I feel so blue.
But before I say adieu,
I have one final hate for you.
I hate my poems
When they're written about you, Miss Meghan Green,
Because they're so obscene.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 2:54 PM UTC
I hate my memory
When it notices the date is a six,
Because that's the day we built a love out of sticks.
I hate my hair
When it's long enough to flutter down to my chest,
Because that's when you thought it looked the best.
I hate my songs
When one that I edited the lyrics of plays,
Because it reminds me of those happy days.
I hate my words
When they remind me of yours,
Because they can make a person crawl on all fours.
I hate my mood
When it reminds me of how I felt dealing with you,
Because my face is red with rage but I feel so blue.
But before I say adieu,
I have one final hate for you.
I hate my poems
When they're written about you, Miss Meghan Green,
Because they're so obscene.
Copyright 2013
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