The Thin Line between Love and Hate
I love the way you kissed me.
I hate that you don’t kiss me anymore.
I love that night we shared together.
I hate that we won’t have another.
I love that good-morning kiss you gave me.
I hate that I won’t wake up next to you again.
I love the tender grip of your hand.
I hate that it’s not my hand you’re holding.
I love the sweet taste of your lips.
I hate that I won’t taste them anymore.
I love your gentle touch.
I hate that you won’t touch me again.
I love your beautiful smile.
I hate that I didn’t cause it.
I love your musical laugh.
I hate that it isn’t from something I said.
I love the look in your eyes.
I hate that it’s not for me.
I love the scar on your wrist.
I hate that I never kissed it like I wanted to.
I love the sound of your voice.
I hate that you never called.
I love the smell of your hair.
I hate that I’m slowly forgetting the scent.
I love the memories of us together.
I hate that I can’t remember every detail.
I love the curves of your body.
I hate that you’re not comfortable in your skin.
I love the little gap between your teeth.
I hate that I never told you that.
I love that you’re happy.
I hate that it’s not with me.
I love you.
I hate that you don’t love me.