the way you say
my smile sparkles;
brings me to tears

the hopes you have
to hold me close
makes me hate you

the way you refer
to me as ‘baby’
makes me grit my teeth

because it feels so good
to think of you and i
and to feel your cheek against mine

but i can’t have it
and that makes me angry,
the fact that my fingers
can’t brush yours and
my lips will never
meet yours

so i torture myself,
waiting for the day
that i kill us