I love you.

I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair,
I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when your stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind,
I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie,
I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you’re not around and the fact that you didn’t call.

But mostly I hate it that I don’t hate you.
Not even a little bit.
Not even close.
Not even at all.