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