Another One

How many
Bad poems
can one love
have?

How many more
until I'm beyond
over you??

I can't get it out
of my head:
you used to love me.

I've always loved you.
Why couldn't we be?

Then I could love
myself,
and eat,
and not cut.

I think
FATE
wishes we were.

But we aren't
and won't be
because it's not fair.

Alex's note:
What is there to say anymore??