By Leo Milmet, reflections on the theme of love
“I don’t love you anymore. It’s not fun anymore.”
With that, she shot me down, and I died a little inside.
I’m dying of a broken heart, and I can’t sleep.
She ate my heart, and I’m watching Night of the Living Dead to keep my mind off her.
I’m eating a pint of chocolate ice cream. That was her favorite flavor.
I’m reading a poem called “Depression,” and watching The Grapes of Wrath, to keep my mind
off my depression.
Why the hell am I doing this?
I seem to love wallowing in my misery.
I try to hate her, but it seems I’ve never loved her more.
Editor: Bella Bier
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