Love, Me.

I find myself wondering why we have to be alone. Why they’re is pain, suffering, love and joy. I wonder what urges you to not answer your phone and why when you do, you use me like a toy. I wonder what you’re thinking—what crosses your mind when you hear a song? Is a memory of me the first thing you see. Do you fall apart too? Or is it just me?—that my thoughts are still of you when I think. I wish I could bring you pain. Break you down so much that you cry and say you need me again. But not like the other times, that you really, really need me. Basically, I just want you to love me. But not that puppy love bullshit like in the beginning. Raw, rough, dirty love. Love you have to fight for. Love WORTH fighting for. I’d fight for you, honey. I’d fight and fight. I’m fighting now, but you’re not listening—you never did anyhow.

Love, Me.

Amanda Whiting

Grand Rapids, United States

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