I love the way you know I’m unsure in life.
I hate the way you shut me out in front of your friends.
I love the way you sing at random, making me smile.
I hate the way you don’t tell me the truth.
I love the way you make it seem like we can move forward.
I hate the way you say “I still need to fix myself” or “that I’m the one holding us back”—when I know you just don’t want to be with me.
I hate the way you make me feel like a bubble,
fragile, easily popped.
I love the way you say you’re sorry, but I hate that your actions never show it.
I hate that I was under a poisoned spell,
forgetting all the flaws.
I hate it when you manipulate me.
I hate the version of you
That made me fall for you in the first place.
