Two Quarters But Only My Two Cents

I’d rather hurt myself. I’d rather understand the kind of pain I want – need – to feel than have you pretending. With your half-insults, half-ignoring me, half-hitting home. I don’t need any more halves in my life and you certainly aren’t mine. Give me your all: all the anger, all the hate, all the self loathing, and secret truths. Or take all of your incomplete’s and go home. I don’t need you like the residue of smoke on my walls. You want the truth? I wish you made it as hard to hate you as you make it to love you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s