i hate
   and i love
as life and death
   pull
  a long-drawn tide
between
  body and
    soul -

there is not one
   love in this world
  of mortal men
that could enclose me,
  as loveless as love
could be so dearth as to not make
   roses grow - hate with its
ferocious hands, swift-bladed,
   cutting all foliage at
  the garden's edge.

i hate
   and i love.
forgetting's hands
unsheathe the moon like
  a bare bone.
i hate, i love,
   and if you ask me how,
  i do not know.
  i only feel.