i hate being so intense
i hate to love so hard
that i get mad at gravity
for making me fall so fast
and want to rip my heart
out of my chest.
i hate to think about you
since i wake up
till i fall asleep
and wish that you think of me
at least for a minute
so i don’t feel so stupid.
i hate to miss you
every second that
you’re not talking to me.
i hate to want to feel your touch so much
that i “accidentally” bump our shoulders
or our fingers
or our knees
or i poke your cheeks
or your arms
or your thighs.
i hate to relate every song about love.
i hate that you became my favorite flower.
i hate that your taking every piece of me
and making it about you.
i hate to still feel your kisses on my neck
or on my back
or on my lips
days after you actually kissed it.
i hate to smell your perfume out of nowhere
cause i know it’s just my head
sabotaging me.
i hate to find your hair strands on my pillow
and remind that you were part of this scenario for one night
and i hate that you seem to fit in it so perfectly.
i hate that i have so vivid in my memories
the face that you make
when i squeeze your waist
and you close your eyes
sighs
and scratch my back.
i hate to enjoy so much
the sounds that you make
when i’m kissing every inch of you.
i just hate everything
cause if i don’t
then i’ll love it
and it’ll be too late to control the damage.