I Wish I Could Hate.

I hate you
or I wish I could.
I wish I could
spit fuming words onto paper
squishing the paper down
to form bullets
to pierce your annoying shell
of obliviousness.

I'd shoot them at you
like spit balls of hate
shot through the straw of rage.
And they'd hit you,
stick to you,
with slimy saliva,
a mixture of
"You're an asshole"
"I hate you"
"How could you?"
and "I never want to see you again."

They'd stick on your shirt
so you'd be wearing
my hurt on your sleeve
for all to see
all the pain
you don't believe I have.

Oh how I wish I could hate.
Wish I could
sever our ties with my sharp tongue
split all of me
that had a part of you
chop my pain into small cubes,
blend them into a soup
to spoon feed them to you
giving you a taste
of your own bitter bullshit.

Oh how I wish I could hate
every vowel
every consonant
that comes out of your mouth
in a constant stream of
trying too hard to talk to me
and "Since I admit I'm an asshole
we can still be friends."

And my heart wants to scream,
"No we can't,"
because healing takes time and space
set at my own pace.
Not the constant hatred of your voice
in my ear,
having to see you everyday everywhere,
or you wanting to be friends.
And right now I'm at the end
of my patience
for you to see
my need of
GET OUT OF MY LIFE.

And I wish I could ignore
every sigh that you exhale
in exhaustion,
every "Life's been hard."
every "Hey, can you do me a favor?"
Every drop of sadness you show,
I wish I could ignore it all,
and shove the sadness back in your face
laugh in the name of karma and revenge.

But in the end
I can't hate you.
Because hating you
means losing me.