An advertisement for something delicious and healing,
but you're just filled with weird seeds and the broth is all wrong.
I hate you more than butternut squash soup.
Your inability to express your thickheaded thoughts, and buttery hands
You're worse that carbonated water.
Full of fun names, sweetly flavored promises,
but when I taste you, all I get is a mouth full of angry water.
I burp up the bubbles, gagging.
You are all the snacks and foods I hate.
I hate you.
It's so simple, we once were what poets write about.
This profound art and beauty within love,
but now we're just as dead as Edgar Alan Poe.
Our love not buried, but left above ground to rot and stink.
I pour you down my garbage disposal and grind you to bits for far longer than need be.
Being rid of you is like like tossing out spoiled milk or bad eggs.
The disgusting stench of your expired rot finally gone, and no longer stinking up my fridge.