I’d rather always argue with you than be with anybody else.
You call me motherf**ker, and I call you bitch.
We shout out loud at each other and end up crying.
Pointing fingers and fists at each other.
Say you hate me, and I say, ‘I hate you more’.
why did I even think you loved me, why would you, ‘love a loser like me’, you ask?
on and on we go….
.
.
.
.
until we cant do this anymore.
We end up embracing and making passionate love, over and over.
In the end; It’s better to be miserable with you than happy with anyone else.
You were always worth this, and still are.
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