Okay,
Love.
This poem,
However distasteful it is,
This poem is for you.
I know,
I lied to you,
Lied that I didn\'t like you.
Didn\'t love you.
But the sad truth is,
That I\'m in love with you.
The way you speak,
You write words,
And say them as if they were poetry,
As if it was honey dripping from your lips.
As if you were a god.
And I told you that I hated you.
Because I was afraid that you loved me back.
That\'s childish,
I know.
But I\'m afraid of being loved,
I\'m afraid that you love me.
So I tried my hardest to make you hate me,
To make you loath ever knowing me.
But when I came back,
When I came crawling back,
You welcomed me with both arms and your heart.
You let me in so easily,
Even though I hurt you.
You let me in,
And promised that you\'d never hate me.
But I\'m telling you know,
Because love,
This poem is for you.
I\'m telling you to run.
From me.
I\'m telling you to please,
Please,
Hate me.
Because I love you.
I need you.
I need you to hate me,
So you will live on.
So you aren\'t destroyed when I blow.
So you know me as I was,
Before I screamed that I hated you once again.