Hate

There's a special kind of hate

that develops inside you

when you see her with someone else

anyone else

even her family.

She lives inside you,

her heart pounding with yours,

and when it grows distant or indistinct,

it's pounding with someone else.

You ask yourself

Where is my heart?

And I'll tell you where it is:

it lives with her,

forever a part of another human being

because you let it go.

It's farther than you imagined.

That ball you kicked too far past the fence,

that homerun you never meant to hit,

that frisbee that has gone way out

into the water.

Where is my heart?

But the strange thing is

no matter how far it went

no matter how much it drowned

a part of you always feels it beat.

A bit of your finger,

a twinge in your neck.

But these beats have grown unfamiliar

and they are painful.

Your body does not welcome them.

So there is a certain hatred

for those beats of your heart.

There is a certain hatred

for the pounding of that drum.

It is not mine.

It is not yours.

It belongs to the world,

and you let it go.

There is a hatred

for the scars,

the tears,

the pain you caused.

There is a hatred for the love you lost.

There is a beating

of a distant heart.

I feel it every so often

but it is not mine.

It is not yours.

It is not ours.

Reviews

[dragon2012]

Wow! Beautiful flow, images. I did feel that the frisbee image kind of jarred the mood, but that's just me.

A fan
Dragon2012