Being Generous and Honest with My Feelings.

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Being Generous and Honest with My Feelings.

By

Ross E F Lombardi

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I hate her.

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I hate her 65 times over.

One for each of the 30 years we were married.

Plus the five years before that.

Then slap on an extra 30 for free.

Let us begin.

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I hate her for breakfast.

I hate her in the morning.

I hate her every Monday.

I hate her in January.

I hate her pale skin.

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I hate her for lunch.

I hate her as I struggle - to even want to live.

I hate her every Tuesday.

I hate her in February.

I hate her black curly hair.

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I hate her for dinner.

I hate our shared, - self-deluded lies.

I hate her every Wednesday.

I hate her in March.

I hate her blue eyes.

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I hate her for supper.

I hate her - and I will Never forgive!

I hate her every Thursday.

I hate her in April.

I hate her nice long legs.

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I hate her for tea.

I hate her in the day .

I hate her every Friday.

I hate her in May.

I hate her when I laugh.

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I hate her as I wank.

I hate her in the afternoon.

I hate her every Saturday.

I hate her in June.

I hate her big tits.

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I hate her - When I take a shit.

I hate her when I cry.

I hate her every Sunday.

I hate her In July.

I hate her when I dance.

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I hate her, - Every bit.

I hate her at night.

I hate her In Spring.

I hate her in August.

I hate her when I sing.

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I hate her - As she makes me want to die.

I hate her in the evening.

I hate her In Summer.

I hate her in September.

I hate her mind.

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I hate that she is so happy.

I hate her as I eat.

I hate her In Autum.

I hate her in October.

I hate her sprit.

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I hate her - For making me so sad.

I hate her as I drink.

I hate her in Winter.

I hate her in November.

I hate her soul.

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I hate her in my sleep.

I hate her as I wake.

I hate her - As use my memories of her - To cum.

I hate her in October.

I hate - That I forever hate her.

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I hate that it is her – That I still miss.

I hate that she is “THAT”.

I hate she tuned me into “THIS”

I hate her in December

and I REALLY EXTRA hate her – Every 17th of December.

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I hate her.

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I know no sane woman will date - This much hate.

No sane woman will ever date me.

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But I’d rather die alone,

Then ever let go of my hate.

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That is how much my hate is valued.

That is how much This hate - Means to me!

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