I hate myself for loving you.
I hate myself for lying to myself that I was over you.
I hate my body for getting weak from your touch.
You know I honestly hate myself for loving you so much.
I hate the guys that say the things that you should say.
I hate the fact you have my heart and you will do with it what you may.
I hate the fact that I use you as a comparison,
When in reality you really ain’t shit and I could do better than,
You.
You. You. You.
Three words. One letter. One syllable.
Is the cause for the physical torment my heart is feeling.
It doesn’t know if it’s fully functional or barely beating.
Blood rushing away from the heart into dangerous places,
That have seen many faces,
Wishing I could erase it,
Mind so fucking complacent,
While I’m sitting in amazement,
That this one syllable that composed who you are has me not on the verge of psychotic but crazy?
I’m dazed and….
Naked.