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.