Handwritten | Poetry & Prose

three | 3

You don't deserve it

I felt a sudden pang of hatred,
A sudden jolt of fire.
Within me, an anguish ignited.
My blood thickened, curdled,
Burrowed to find an empty space,
Searching elsewhere to pulse,
Finding ways to relieve pain...

I'm not in pain.

But these tears route their way free
From sorrow's containment,
From the guilt's labyrinth,
From all the hatred buried within...

"Why do they hate you?"

No.

Why do you make it seem
That you aren't in pain?
Living as if it were just a dream,
You mask all the hate beautifully,
Hiding all the maps and roadlines
And evidence of when pain arrived,

And through it all...

You laughed,

You smiled...

"You don't deserve it."

A desire.
A needed want.
A desperate need.

My fingers search their way to seek
The tears of pain, but they keep failing.
And i cry, but these tears channel their way free,
Looking to find two seas in between
That flows with the same sorrow, alike agony.

My hands restrict themselves
To provide me with comfort,
But outstretch to grasp onto yours,
To hold it firmly,
As we walk in the dark;
Like two falling stars,
Desperately looking for ease...

"You deserve love."

And i want to mould every insult of theirs,
Coil them into something else.
Bleach every dark word,
Until it turns into an empty pale.
Burn every line they construct,
Till they become speechless and numb,
And they'll begin looking for a million
Ways to hurt you, but they would find
My comfort that would put you to ease,
So they would finally succumb,
Surrender with utter confusion and rage
And they'd be keen and eager to cause you to fall -
They would shout every syllable packed and condensed with hate,
But each letter would mute and recoil,
Muffled over by my love...

"Let them hate me."
"I don't want them to."

And that was when you told me,
And it brought me an easy,
Relieving exhale,
And warmth...

"Your love turns all their hate to dust."