I hate
that mocking grin
of yours
echoing
in my ears
ringing
piercing my pride
your silent snicker
only I hear
making me
my skin
feel stained
with grime and stinking grease
I hate you
for
making me feel
like a hundred hands
five hundred fingers
groping me crudely
in ways
that make my
breathing quicken
and my heart race
disgustedly
watching myself react
like a slut
even imagining
being ravished by you
I hate
the way you
pretend
that brush
that tight-fitting shirt
that lick of your lips
right in my view
was unconscious
and meaningless
but
I know
you smirk
and jest at my torment
when you turn
your beautiful
back
flaunting at me
your sexy muscles
I know you
laugh behind mine
my back
not as
attractive as yours
not able
to make everyone
even guys
drool
like yours can
I hate
how even
my back
can't match yours
much less my front
not even
models
or actors
or singers
comparable to you
an alien
on this world
your Adonis-like air
your good looks
your seductiveness
your I-don't-know-what
I hate that
I hate those all
and I hate you most
for conveniently placing it all
every honeyed bite of it
temptingly
just within
the outside of my reach
YOU ARE READING
Poem Game
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