I Hate Him

I hate him.

I hate his dark colored eyes.

I hate his thick dark hair.

I hate the tattoos that cover his skin.

I hate how sweet he is.

I hate how he waits for me at the end of each day.

I hate how easy it is to talk to him.

And I hate that he doesn’t exist.

I hate that I still dream of him.

I hate how I would watch movies alone in the dark,

wishing that he were there.

But none of it was real.

I was alone.

My worst fear finally come true.

It left me weak.

Dulled my senses and everything that was simply,

Me. 

Until I woke up the next morning,

seeing my bulletin of clues that led me to who he could be.

Only for me to have accused the wrong person.

Now I sit in my cell,

staring through the bars at him.

It was him.

Staring back at me as well.

With the warm smile that made my heart ache.

He was somebody else entirely after all.