June 1, 2011
I hate the little nicknames you gave me and the sweatshirt I never got to wear.
I hate the way the sand fit between our toes and the way you kissed my hair.

I hate the way your feet felt and how mine were half as big as yours.
I hate the subtle scent of your breath and how it left traces on my pores.

I hate the way you shook my father’s hand and the way you grasped mine.
I hate the way you winked at me and the way I always lost track of time.

I hate the way your hair stood and the way your hips swayed.
I hate the way you cared for me and those games you never played.

I hate the way you wore the pants and the way I could never admit it.
I hate the way you kissed my lips and now I can never forget it.

But you know the thing I hate the most, after everything is said and done.
Not the day you said I’m beautiful and the way you said I was the only one.

The thing I always hate the most whenever you pass by,
Is I can’t hate one little thing about you no matter how hard I try.

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