Richard leaves water
scattered
all over the bathroom counter.
Richard combs his hair
in a way I wish he wouldn’t.
When Richard opens cereal
he leaves the top of the box open,
forgets to close it all the way.
One time for my birthday
Richard forgot what I wanted.
Then when I asked him,
“Richard, could you hold me?”,
he had the nerve to say,
“Yeah, just a second, hun.”
Every time Richard uses his fork on
the butter
I hate him deeply for this,
hate him,
hate him,
hate him.
– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
novamartinpoetry.com 