He worms his way under my porous skin,

even as I promise myself I won't react.

His smug grin and smarmy disregard wrench

revulsion and loathing from my angry heart;

Physical disgust claims my body and I gaze upon

his being with intense fury burning in my eyes.

It is a sickness- raging like a fever in my veins;

my blood boils and my stomach sickens each time

He is around. But he chose this. Each punch he throws

just serves to make me hate him more. And as I ache

with raging resentment I know only age – or death –

will bring me freedom: The curse of having relations.