The Mistake Is Thinking That

We Gather The Things We Learned, And They Don't Nearly Add Up To Fill The Space Of A Life. You Will Miss The Taste Of Froot Loops. You Will Miss The Sound Of Traffic. You Will Miss Your Back Against His. You Will Miss Him Stealing The Sheets. Do Not Ignore These Things.

You Can Give Words, But You Can't Take Them. And When Words Are Given, That Is When They Are Shared. We Remember What That Was Like. Words So Real They Were Almost Tangible. There Are Conversations You Remember, For Certain. But More Than That, There Is The Sensation Of Conversation. You Will Remember That, Even When The Precise Words Begin To Blur.

I Hate The Way You Talk To Me, And The Way You Cut Your Hair. I Hate The Way You Drive My Car. I Hate It When You Stare. I Hate Your Big Dumb Combat Boots, And The Way You Read My Mind. I Hate You So Much It Makes Me Sick; It Even Makes Me Rhyme. I Hate It, I Hate The Way You're Always Right. I Hate It When You Lie. I Hate It When You Make Me Laugh, Even Worse When You Make Me Cry. I Hate It When You're Not Around, And The Fact That You Didn't Call. But Mostly I Hate The Way I Don't Hate You. Not Even Close, Not Even A Little Bit, Not Even At All.

Its A Fine Line Between Love And Stalking.

Let’s Always Love Each Other, And Never Be In Love With Each Other.