I always feel the most motivated to write at the extremes of my emotions. When I love and when I hate. For I have loved you enough to write across the stars all that i felt now the only thing you bring out of me is hate. Don’t feel special thinking that you get more poems you are not special you mean nothing to me but the word hatred. There are not about you but about the hatred for you. I can only make sense of the heartlessness I experienced from you as a leech you can only survive by the kindle of a new chase and you will never find or feel real love just always grasping a fleeting moment. I also don’t wish that you change or get some revelation of your non existent heart. It would take having a heart to reach that enlightenment anyway. So continue being who you are because that is the best way I will find solace.