Nicola Beckett

Your letter sits upon my desk,

I know it's yours by the scrawl of your handwriting.

If you beg me to listen,

and to kiss and make-up,

I will despise you all the more....

But your cold indifference,

has me captivated..

See if I wanted a book to read,

I would go to the library,

and ask the timid librarian,

for something predictable,

Like a Mills and Boon...

if you end it,

I will want you all the more,

If you say you hate me....

I will know that you don't

and if you say it's over forever,

I know you will turn up again,

like my cross and chain,

lost for a year,

only to turn up unannounced,

In a pocket somewhere.

Don't say you miss me,

then hang up,

don't say you love me,

then run away,

don't say you need me,

then kiss her instead,

say you hate me,

shout at me,

throw an odd insult or two,

then cover me with kisses.

I dont care what you did yesterday,

or last year or last month,

I dont care if you are bad through to your very bones.

All I know that as much as you hate me I hate you....

so come closer

and cover me with a kiss or two?...

XxxxX