Self-Titled

Hatred

I hate the cocky smirk that dances across your lips

And the pencil that you hold in your mouth by the tip.

I hate the way you run your fingers through your hair

And the way your eyes shine through your glares.

I hate how much we have in common

And how I find your presence not at all calming.

I hate that we let our similarities break us

And that it was our connection that created the fuss.

I hate the way our communication has fallen short.

Neither one of us tries to end the gore.

I hate that you make me out of sorts

And that it is no longer in the way that you did before.

I hate that you still want her.

I hate that you will never start anew.

I hate the pain that you have made me endure.

But above all, I hate the way that I still love you.