I hate how every line of every poem makes me think of you
And how I have to read every poetry book with a pen in my hand
Just so I can mark, scribble and star all the parts that remind me of you
Until I realize the black ink of my gel pen is flooding every page
Until the ink is all gone
And I’m left with memories of unrequited love and my love for your words
perfect. you captured the love, the hate, and soft intensity of the struggle. well penned piece. keep’em coming. very relatable write.
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