You say such awful things
meant to squash any last bit
of love and have me revel
in hatred
I say add your words
to the ever growing pile
fight it out even, each
of you having your own
specific recipe- how to
hate and when, an army
of stupidity that has
no end
You say my pain is all
wrong, stubbornly denying
the possibility of loving that
sort of man, therefore I should
be able to just move along
I say I would rather be tangled
up in love than take on that
sort of ugly thing, this hatred
you want to throw on me like
a prized possession, keep it
for yourself, hoard it for
the leaner times

you're going to need it