i must admit
i'm fond of nothing.
nothing seems to describe
my life very well
and
there’s always
nothing in my future
and nothing to achieve.
nothing’s more
beautiful
than everything i see and
nothing hurts more than
everything i don’t,
nothing feels nearly as
good as
your smile and
lips
and when i'm alone,
cold and terrified
or in my bed,
there's nothing to
keep me company.
all in all, nothing
is good enough for me
and maybe, in a way,
i'm like
nothing.
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