Dear John,
Yeah, I know you love her,
but she loves him,
he loves her friend,
she loves my friend,
he loves me,
and I love you.
So how exactly
will this love hexagon end?
Well, I must murder her,
her blood running down my knife
like the tears down my face.
Oh, the teardrop glistens
like a beautiful star, such as AF-128 –
oh, AF-128, what a gem,
sparkling atrociously in the moon’s luminosity.
And yeah, I read your texts
on your iPhone (newest model)
and yeah, I saw the emoticons
and the tweet and the #instapic
Hell, I even saw the Vine.
So you’re in love,
represented by a dove
sent from the man above –
known, I should’ve.
AND YEAH, I might flirt with other guys
AND YEAH, I might only love you ’cause you’re attractive,
AND YEAH, I might check your online profiles
every 2 minutes.
But this is love, isn’t it?
Or am I just cliché?

I love you from the bottom of my heart,
the depths of the sea,
the sparkling diamonds in the beautiful earth,
yours forever,
till death do us part,
Alyssa

P.S. I love you