I Hate Your Laugh

I hate your eyes.
But it's not that murky excuse for green that I hate
It's their ability to stare in mine
Hold them so intensely
And pour Grade A lies so fluidly

I hate your laugh.
Like a teacher's sturdy nails against the blackboard
With a hint of base of course
To make up for the basics that define you as a man.
Maybe.

I hate your hair.
The eight-dollar bottle of that pharmacy chestnut brown
That now traps your natural beach blonde locks
I believe your haircut has been long overdue
But that would mean chopping off your wannabe Bieber shag.

I hate your teeth.
Who knew behind those pearly whites
Festered so much rage
When you would clench them together
Throwing one of your first-class hissy fits.

What [I] hate the most about you?
I don't even know
If you would be ab[L]e to comprehend the truth
That I'm about to sh[O]ot through your veins
If it could e[V]en sink through that thick skull
Lay[E]red with your various comics
And your classic John Ma[Y]er CD's
Y[O]u wo[U]ldn't even be able to grasp it.

So the question still stands.
I can't exactly put my finger on it.
But.

I'm pretty sure I just hate you.