2013. május 19., vasárnap

love

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 you 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 it, 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 the way I don't hate you. 
 Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

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