Paradox

Even when I'm seething,

when I'm blindingly furious,

as red as the blood in my taut veins,

I yearn for him.

I want to tell him I am angry while

he kisses me.


Soothing my nerves with that

touch,

Inflaming them at the very same moment.

I want that paradox.


Mumbling, "I hate you,"

and really truly meaning it.

Wanting to rip your golden hair from

your scalp, but too

busy wanting the taste of your lips.

Hating you while I crave you.


When I never want to see him again,

erase his face from my memory,

scratch of the scars of his presence,

I yearn for him.

I want to be insane with that furious fire

while he holds me.


Melting my emotions with those

eyes,

Enraging them at the very same moment.

Your beautiful paradox.


Screaming, "I hate you,"

and really truly meaning it.

Your fingers caress, your

breath sits, as hot

as my temper, on my neck.

Straight through the ripe wrath.


Hating you and loving you.

Saying I hate you as you love me,

because you know that I love you too.