your weak breath tickles my ear,
with fading heat, like a September afternoon,

and I hate myself just as much as you hate me,

for my greed and loyalty to the cards,
instead of the stars that were your eyes,

but your heart was impenetrable, always,
like Everest or the Atlantic Ocean,

I could not get close enough to touch it
and make it mine,

close enough to make you mine,

so hate me, and I’ll hate myself,
but I’ll know my faults wondering
if you’ll ever accept yours

in return