I hate you, darling.

I hate you It's a feeble, pathetic, childish hate; but it does exist. I hate that you have made me dependent on some external existance. I hate that you make my life less bright when I'm without you I hate that I can't ensure the existence of something so vital to mine So, yes, I do hate you for that. But sleep sound, my darling, it's just a by product of the happiness and affection you give me. It's as one might hate light for making shadows Or love, for making loneliness.