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.