i hate you - which is to say i've started peeling the skin flaking off my lips till they bleed a raspberry-crimson-salty red and i'm jolted back into the classic physics lecture by my friend's elbow-nudge. and that the three books i ordered last week lay rotting under my bed because my eyes are too sore to read, dust covering them up like virginity. that the spearmint toothpaste just isn't enough to wake me up so i listen to heavy metal blasting up my eardrums in mornings. i hate you - which is to say you kinda really fucked me up and so i hate the way i love you, hate the way your name starts where mine ends, hate the way i adore your scrunched up nose when you're shy, hate the way i clench the steering wheel after dropping you home, hate your lazy ass wanting to stay in bed all day long, discussing monica bellucci's exes. so now i hope you understand i hate you - which is to say if my eyes were stories, no one else would be able to read you in there. that your love felt like a sunday that passed too quick. and that i hate you - which is to say i haven't found a way of telling you that tonight i cried and that now i am tired.
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