Loathing

I hate you, I always say, again,
And you can see I mean it.
I don't think it matters.
We fight. My finger scratches
Down the marble of your torso,
And I am unmade. I hate you;
I don't hate you. I am taut
With wanting you, and I say
I don't know, in answer
To your questions. Bravo,
More, the audience screams
In ecstasy, hating you, and I say
My beloved enemy knows
How to hurt me best.