Enjoying Nothing

This poem was weird when I first wrote it, but the more I read it, the more I like it. It's old, but... I guess every so often when I read it, it feels so new.

We met in sunshine,
hugged with dirty looks,
and kissed in acid rain.

We spoke in malicious whispers,
ended conversations with borrowed love,
and laughed from ugly lips.

We held hands with knives,
shared Hell, not compassion,
and loved like warriors.

We bit each others heads off,
fought with jealousy,
and made love to the rythm of war drums.

We shared good times like snow on the Equator,
had common interests like sand and fire,
and cared without feeling.

We had Hell from start to end,
never said much that was worth much,
and you were just my pretty boy.