I hate your nimble fingers and your soft caresses.
I hate your hair and your pronounced cologne.
I hate your eyes and your five o'clock shadow,
And I hate your voice and the words only you could say to make me feel so alone.
I hate your music.
I hate your stories.
I hate your laugh, and that slight smile.
That knowing smile.
I hate that you're observant and smart
But so very, very blind.
I hate the games and I hate the shame you make me feel
I hate the persuasiveness and the thoughts you shove in my mind.
I hate so much, it makes me shake,
Just a bad reaction from a homegrown catalyst.
Because if I should dare say that I hate you…
Well, I'd know that would be an outright lie.
And the rest are just the roots I've grown to crave
And also the things that end up crumbling my stability, my ground.
This all I know now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem