I love and stuff.

Even during the best of highs, the lowest of the low.

Love the one that may meet you half-way, the one that even if the chick from whoresville-that-you-wouldn't-mind-doing was down. And while avoiding all temptation AND hope. You can't stop but to wonder. Because knowing she's not there makes it all go away. You realize you still love her. The way you did from ultimate beginning and end.

 

Poetry slam, you're mine.