Portrait of Suzanne Bloch

Pablo Picasso, 1904.

It is an uninspiring haiku coming from a drunk today. I don’t really give a fuck if you do or not, but I really fucking miss this person in my life and want to talk to him even if I cannot at this state right now (yes, I just had half a bottle of whiskey, but I do not give even half a fuck about it), because I actually do miss him more than I should.

Is it adequate

to express the extent of

your existence now.

I think I followed the five-seven-five rule for haikus. I don’t really give a shit, because I really do miss him, and anyone else who knows would probably call me an idiot, so here I am, a romantic – missing someone and living within the stereotype. I am okay with it today.

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