maybe we don't hate each other as much as we think, but maybe we do.

i want to argue politics with you until our tongues wrap around each other.
until they are tied together.
until we are stuck making out.
this is all unintentional,
but at least we're accomplishing more,
than when you and i were talking.
we can stay like this,
brushing our fingertips upwards
against the bumps
of each other's ribs,
in between the intervals
of our breaths.
in a compromise.
or i can get the scissors.