So I decided to give you another shot.
You said, “Talk to you later.”
When you said later, did you mean later this year or later today.
Hell, I can’t tell.
It’s been almost four hours since I last talked to you.
This really bites, you know.
I really thought that I could possibly like you again.
Turns out, I was wrong.
But what’s new.
I’m still the same old me.
Insular.
You’re still the same old you.
Nonchalant.
Why haven’t I come to embrace your personality and just move on?
I hate loving you, but I can’t help it.
I’m sick.
Why can’t I be detached like you?
I don’t like you, yet I love you.
Pretty.
F*cking.
Odd.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem