i ******* hate
that every time i sit down
to write something
it always turns into
a ******* love poem
but not even a real
love poem
a half-assed, empty, lifeless
congregation of lines
i don’t know a ******* thing
about love
i just know that when you said
i was the most beautiful
person
you have ever met
i cried for two days
two ******* days