Somethings to hate

I hate it when you shout at me, for all the small small things
I hate it, in my eyes, the tears you bring
I hate when you at times you just want to play alone, in your own dreamland alone
I hate it when you don’t want to talk and ask what’s been happening with me, even though when we are in the same house
I hate it when I know that I am equally at fault
I hate it when I realize that, in practice, I have forgotten all about men that my ma taught, or may be I don’t want to practice after all
But what I hate the most is all these years I loved you still
I hate it that in somewhere inside me I always will.