I hate you
the way you flick open
the blinds in the morning: sudden & sharp

I hate you
like I hate the way
the aroma from the pancakes you cook
lingers in the air, sticking at my soft edges,
and the way the syrup hardens after
staying out too long

I hate you
the way your body
presses against mine at night,
curled up, a niggling pressure
at the base of my spine

I hate you
the way the moon caresses your face
at night, tracing your eyelashes in the dark
sitting, pondering,
then creeping over the covers and out
the window
sucked back into the sky
leaving nothing behind
except for a weary peace.