Many things I hate about you

I hate how your pants are always too short.

I hate your dorky loafers,

and I hate your pretentious taste in poetry

your joking fondness for misogyny

I hate the way you smile at me with all-knowing eyes

the ones that have no problem staring through the lies

I hate it when you’re honest too

as if it’s making up for the rest

I hate the times I confide in you

and get back only jest

I hate the way you read my mind with one simple chilling glare

I try so obviously to make you know, and I hate that you don’t care

I hate that you don’t leave, and I hate that you don’t stay

…though if you remained any longer would we be fighting?

I couldn’t say

I hate that you don’t make time for me

even though we’re us

I’ll take our parting argument and squeeze the hatred into dust

I always choose incorrectly

But to tell the truth, don’t we all?

You’re antisocial and expire, like a cigarette last hour lit

Being with you is like breathing

If I could survive without it

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