How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
It would be such a short fucking list seeing
as I hate all the bruises you left along the way.
I hate your cockroach creeping into my dreams.
I hate the way your dirty fingers, intent on being
in every pie, curl round every letter in my name.
I hate the way your words rot, trapped by my lips,
fermenting my smile every single time I feel free
to part my lips for something other than a kiss.