prolonged hatred.

who knew I was capable of such prolonged hatred?
I always hoped I wouldn’t hate.
I wished to not have the ability.

who knew this time last year?
who knew my life could have such hope?
a better hope, safe hope, loving hope.

and it was possible to deceive yourself.
who knew?
another lesson.

I do not miss you as my teacher. I did not want you.
I did not want your continual disapproval,
and narrow discipline.

is it discipline if there is no reward?
is it love if it feeds on control?
did you know what you were doing?

perhaps I find comfort
in the hate.

perhaps as I stare at your photo,
hating you
feels warm, strong, right.

maybe one day.
I can see you
and my glance will be through you.

maybe one day.
the prolonged hatred will fade
to brief, perplexed non-recognition.

maybe one day.
your presence will cause
indifference.

but I don’t need to rush it.
for now it is
prolonged.

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