What is hate?

What is hate?

Is it you glaring every time our eyes meet?

Is it you not acknowledging my existence?

Is it you purposely being with other girls

when you know how I feel?

It is you forgetting all the good times that we shared?

Is it you making sure that I am in the room before stating

just how happy you have become?

 

What does it feel like to be hated?

Is it the feeling in my chest

of my heart being ripped out of my body?

Is it the endless pain of when I look at our old pictures?

Is it my desperate unanswered pleas to forget?

Is it feeling like fate has decided to turn it’s back

and let me drown in my own pitiful existence?

Is it me whenever I see you with her?

 

No.

None of it is hatred.

None of it is being hated.

It is just another way of loving

someone who has never cared

from the beginning.

 

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