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Replying to a comment on:
This aint love, its shit (Free verse) by Kitch
She came around to see me,
But she has changed the way I was,
I try the hardest to be me,
And be the person she will say I was.
Sex has become a replacement to speak,
Its our strength we have in case we are weak.
Once she would hold me and her grip was firm,
Now when I touch her I feel her squirm,
Once she would kiss me and my lips would turn white,
Once she would miss me and call to say goodnight.
Now we just tolerate each other,
More often than not hate each other.
Yet still the thought of losing her kills me,
Touching her, making her squirm thrills me.
She tells me she loves me, tells me Iâm handsome,
But then insults me,
Holds my feelings to ransom.
I know deep down her feelings are dead,
The only reason,
Iâm still her season is weâre good in bed.
Loves no longer complete,
Love is now obsolete,
Held together by sand not concrete.
I pretend that Iâm in love,
And then when we row, defend our love,
Weâre living a lie its time to confess,
That I must fly from this broken nest.
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