MusingsPoetry

Hate

a trail of dead leaves,
of what was once a green valley.

an army of fallen soldiers,
of what was once a great calvary.

a path of true affection,
interwoven like a stretch of purple woolen sweater;
now embittered and twisted,
like it never existed…

these fabrics are loosened,
I’m exposed to the cold.

why do we meet,
when we’d still part?

why do we love,
when it all ends in hate?

why do we sing,
when it’d end in tears?

I’m not into forensics,
but I know there’s no trail of affection left.

love was my strength,
and hate an allergy.

but right now,
I’m stuck in reverse

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