A Love/Hate Relationship

I hate love poems,

dripping with

disgustingly

sweet

sap.

Nothing that sugary could

possibly be good for you.

Yet there’s still a part

of my brain

that craves it.

Sweet, savory love

and the flowery poetry

that accompanies it.

I know the signs:

flushed cheeks,

bright eyes,

tummy butterflies.

The clichés don’t lie.

Love poetry speaks to me.

I understand it.

tall, dark, and handsome

smart, sweet, and funny

challenging me

calling me on my bullshit

picking my drunken ass up and

putting me to bed

making sure the fridge is stocked with diet pepsi

taking me out and

treating me like the princess i am

But I hate loves poems.