I hate that ridiculous yellow sweater of yours,
and your shirts
and your hair.

I hate that you always know better,
I hate your childish behaviour.
I hate when you point out my mistakes.
You are arrogant and overly critical
and frankly, quite annoying.

But you often make me laugh,
and part of me loves the frustration.

Don't think too much of it
when I ask you out
for coffee;
   you will pay and I will smile,
   maybe kiss you goodbye,
But it will not mean
a thing.