I never told anyone
about the hate that came first that night-
the hate that boiled in your eyes
your chest moving quickly
as you stared down at me through oceans.

I never told anyone  
about the hate that I felt
as I stumbled backwards
from hands on my chest.

I never told anyone
about the hate that made my eyes cold
and my voice hot
and my fingertips electric
as I handed back what you had thrown at me
with the force of ten beers
                              four shots
                 and your big warm hands.

I never told anyone
about the hate that made my eyes leak
and my brain spin
as I put you to bed,
avoiding bruises
as I tried to take off your shoes.

I never told anyone
about the hate I heard in my voice
when I said the words out loud-
sounds I didn’t recognize.

I never told anyone
about the hate that burned a hole in my chest
right where your head rested
when you woke up scared
in the middle of the night
and pulled me close.

I never told anyone
about the hate that crawled all over my skin
in between me
                           and
                                     your arms.