THE SIMP

"Hearts that love are rare, as hearts that are broken are many. I admit my wrongs and truce, and I seek sage of what I did to those who deserved less. I am no warrior of love, I came to admit.., but hell I was one of a kind lover, just a brad some simp.



THEN.
'You love music? Hip-hop, R&B, what's your taste?' I asked. She was always charming on the inside, but on the outside, I found no words to describe her. I hated her, yet I hated her not. Alone, I did hate her, but with her, I could never describe it as hate; it was always a yearning, a yearning for more... or perhaps it was the timing, or maybe it was my place, or maybe I gave too much. But what else would you do when you see yourself in someone?
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*Now*
Ta, ta, ta.
"Why don’t you call me? I’m always the one in search of you. I hate it when you're like this... I am..." She was complaining again, and I hated it. I hated it when she complained. I knew I was always the cause; I had turned into something, something I never was. I hated admitting that someone had broken and made me like this, but yes, whatever I turned into, hell, I hated it. But she still understood... hell, she did.