Hate love

I'll be that rare case where I hate to love. I don't see it as a bad thing. It's just too messy, this love. I used to be the girl who was in love with the idea of love. But that girl was young and naive. She was blinded by sweet words and cuddles. I'm not that girl anymore. I know sweet words only turn bitter and cuddles are good for one night. The comforting, warm hugs turn stone cold. Those soft, passionate kisses begin to lack, transform to pecks on the cheek, or worse, pecks on the lips, the meaningless slap of flesh together. I know that now.

When things go sour don't feel bad. Save that pity kiss, hug, love. . . whatever's left and I'll save the pity fuck. Let's not try to fool ourselves into believing things can work. A clean cut's the way to go. After all, it's all out of sympathy in the end.

I'll try to forget about you. I'll try to move on, find some other fool to play the game of love with me. I won't forget you though. You know that long silence after a really loud song? That's when I'll think of you. Right before I doze off, you'll pop into sight. I'll remember a time you said you wanted to be with me forever and ever. I'll shed a tear or two for you and you'll never know. You'll haven't the slightest clue the number of salty liquids that fell from my face for you. I could drown you in them but it wouldn't be the cure. Instead I drown my pillow and hope it forgives me in the morning.

Maybe when memories begin to fade and thoughts of you don't make my heart cringe, I'll be able to love again. Maybe then I won't have to hate love.