It’s so easy to pass judgment on someone you haven’t met; it’s even easier when you hear them speak except they’re not talking with you — at you. However, there are those instances wherein someone actually converses with you and you’re so fascinated and excited from the rush conversation brings that, along the way, you become one of those people who talk at someone else. This poem is an apology for that.
“I hate you.” It would be so easy for me to just start and end with a poem with that, but I won’t end with that – you know I love a good storyline.
Chapter one: I am not a risk taker by any means. Sure, I’ll cross the road without looking both ways and sometimes, I’ll go to sleep without doing my night routine, but that’s it. Even the idea of “love” is a game of chance, but I took those chances with you anyway.
Chapter two: I hate you, but I don’t.
On our first date you showed me that it was okay not to have my phone at all times even though I could potentially miss an emergency call. On our second date, you showed me that it was okay to want to go on a second date and ask you out myself.
Chapter three: I really hate you, but I don’t.
You made me love the outdoors even though there was always a chance of rain. You made me love the ocean even though it could drown me if I waded too far. You made me love the sky even though the sun could blind me if I looked for too long.
Chapter four: I want to hate you, but I don’t.
I began to love your scent and hold your pillows to my chest. I stepped barefoot into your shower and brushed my teeth next to you. I touched your face and let you touch mine as warmth travelled from our fingertips to our cheeks.
Chapter five: I try to hate you, but I don’t.
Even though you got me the wrong kind of flowers and I was allergic. Even though you didn’t call after our first date. Even though you stole the blanket in the middle of the night. Even though you didn’t offer to drive me home the morning after. Even though you apologize with affection when your tone gets harsher.
Chapter six: I should hate you, but I don’t because you never heard me say I love you.
I hate you for not knowing that I fogged the bathroom mirror on purpose to draw a heart for you. I hate you for not knowing that the little verses I had written were about you and now who I wanted you to be. I hate you for not knowing that I didn’t tell you about the flowers and my allergies because they were your favourites. I hate you for assuming that I did not love you because I did not yell it at the top of my lungs the same way you yelled at me to get out.
And maybe that’s my fault, but I still won’t yell it now.
Chapter seven: I hate you, but I don’t love you.
Chapter eight: I’m in love with you.
