Bad Boy Blues

Maybe hate is just love wrapped up in a barbed wire. Or at least, mine was.

You never look at me anymore,” I blurt out.
“Because it hurts.”
His words make me flinch, even though there wasn’t any meanness in them. They held a kind of emotion I’ve never gotten from him before.
It resembles a weird mixture of torture and desperation.
It makes me breathless and shivery for some reason. A little sad for him, too.
“Why does it hurt?” I ask.
His arms wind around my waist and his legs go on either side of me, sort of cradling me into his body. My knees are digging into the grass and so are my elbows but that barely registers, seeing how I’m flung over him.
“Because you look at me like…”
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t hate me anymore.”

Then let’s see how much you wanna be saved. Show me how much you hate me, Blue. Spread your fucking legs.”