today you made me angry and i hate you for that. i hate
that you act like your six-year old brother, who’s cuter than you
and can get away with **** like that. ooh, did i offend thee?
poor dear, perhaps you’d like to stuff your face with some humble pie
instead of that ****-cake that i made two nights ago.
and pur-lease, don’t give me some ******* that i ignore you.
you do the same thing. and don’t act like sorry is just a word.
*******! is love just a word to you, too? ha! let’s scrawl it out
on your forehead and see if you can feel how i feel for just a second.
i’d like to say a lot of things to you right now but they’re far too mean,
or for you at least. i can’t say anything without getting yelled at
anymore. shocking, since i’m stuck beneath your sad little jabs
all the time and i only laugh because it’s water off a duck’s back.
and now you sing down to me like rapunzel and i can’t help
but feel sad, wishing that i hadn’t ignored you in the first place
and that you hadn’t badgered me until i actually decided to be a *****.
so yes, forgive me when you’d like and i will forgive you.
but don’t give me some whatever that means ******* because everything
i do for you is for you and me together. i am not hateful
when i tell you the truth, but perhaps the truth is more than you’d like
to hear right now. or perhaps all the time? i’m sorry. really i am,
and though you may never say you’re sorry to me, i can still hope.