Part 4 Of The 'More Than Anything' Series Poem by hollie ash

Tonight, more than anything, I feel rejected. Wholly inadequate. Small and insignificant. Misaligned and misdirected and misguided and missing you. And all the songs are effing love songs. And all the lines in all the effing love songs are followed by more lines, then a chorus, or at the very least a riff, a bridge or an outro. That point is that they’re followed by something, something that creates movement, creates motion. Not a one of them repeat the same line for 10 days or just cut off into dead silence after a really great kiss. More than anything, I feel angry about it all because, dangit, it’s easier to be mad than to feel hurt.