Hate is invigorating
isn’t it darling?
You can taste it, can’t you?
I can taste it
That white hot sensation spreading
in my lower belly
absolute loathsome at
dirt-rotten hair
Words that twist
in my head
like a pretty little rose vine
those thorns cutting into my skin
You hate those also
Yet you still
prick and prod
until the aroma drowns out
that metallic scent
Exquisite fingers skim across my pulse
grin wicked like the devils
his lips ghost over mine
a hairsbreadth distance
lips like molten lava
And then he’s gone
The skin on my wrist still smolders
as I watch him descend
I rub the ache as if it could relieve the pain
The dull spasms in my chest
It tingles
even as I walk away
and it warms me
Hate is the only thing that’s ever warmed me
Éloa 
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