Love makes monsters of us
And even the cutest little things
That pushed you towards it to begin with
become as irritating as people chewing
With their gaping mouths like hippos.

You hated the way I ate bananas,
Because you could hear me biting it
And I,
I hated so many little things that
They became one big thing
And that’s why we eventually sought others
Or maybe that’s a fiction.

There’s an interesting divide between
Fiction and the real
And I’m never quite sure which side
Memories fall on.

We certainly invent stories
That serve to fill the gaps of memories
But we never remember how much is real.