I'd always thought That when you finally left me I'd use that pain to write poems The best ones Id ever written Because the most passionate pieces of us Are hurt. Pain is the emotion we feel the deepest. And I thought I'd be able to use it In a way that cleansed me of you But now that you're gone, I see I was wrong. I can't even lift up a pen. In fact I think I want to burn every **** Paper I have scribbled words accross Trying to describe you to people Who would never understand. Now that you're gone I hate poetry. I hate metaphors I hate similes I HATE THEM BECAUSE YOU YOURSELF ARE THE GREATEST POEM EVER WRITTEN. And you're gone.