I Hate You
I hate the way you smile at me, like you know exactly what it does. I hate the way my face lights up the moment I see you, as if I didn’t have a brain, as if every thought disappears the second you’re near me. I hate the way you touch me. I hate how much I crave it. I hate how badly I want you to hold me and make everything else disappear. My veins feel full of blood pumped straight from my heart to you. I hate being vulnerable. I hate that I’m vulnerable for you. I hate that when it’s dark outside and there’s nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, you’re the only person I want. I want your voice to quiet the noise in my head. I want you there when everything feels too loud. Every part of me seems to find its way back to you. I hate how perfect you seem. I hate how, afterward, I have to look at myself, then look at you, and realize just how far away I am from you. And more than anything, I hate the that one day I will loose you. Because I don’t know what I would do with all of the blood I made for you.
