Unspoken;

Last night I told him I hate him and I meant it.

I hate what he does to me.

Hate that we have a real connection and a valid chemistry.

Hate the way he lies.

Hate that I’m here,

In your bed,

Again.

Like I never left.

Like it’s my spot, when I know he’s had other lovers here.

That residual energy.

I hate that he still makes me cum.

Always.

I hate that I can’t walk away and I can’t figure out why.

I always figure people out but he’s an enigma.

I can’t tell if he’s running from valid feelings, or just running game.

‘I love you’s in between power plays?

I hate that this is precisely the kind of bad romance I’m always attracted to.

I don’t want love if it’s easy.

But I do love him though.

Dangerously.

Indifferently.

That remains to be seen.

And last night I told him I hate him, but I really just hate myself.