The Hate.

     I cannot tell with you how much certainty I hate her right now. In other words, for you more simple minded, I'm not sure if I hate her right now or not. I know you're gone but I still dream about you, your perfume has long since faded but I still smell you and it's been months since I've seen your face but I can never forget what your smile looks like.
 
     I looked back on our times and I looked underneath every rock and dug up every buried hatchet to inspect it more vigorously to find that my memories of you are truth. That is, the memories of your lies, and deceit. I thought I might look back to see if anything had changed for the better but it has not. Which is unfair. It makes me restless. It makes me think too much at night, lose sleep and miss breakfast. So now I'm hungry, thanks a lot.
 
     In a roundabout way, which I hate, this is my 'congratulations, I hate you.' piece.
Congrats, I've probably spent more hours thinking about you then I have sleeping in the past week.
Congrats, your cold near dead heart has been the focus of my love for almost 3 months.
Congrats, your smile made me smile when I thought that it was real.
Congrats, it still makes me smile.

     I've made a list of the reasons why I should no longer think of you. I've read that list every night for the past year and throughout said year, each night I read the list, it all seems more and more ridiculous. You frighten me. You make my skin crawl and not in that nervous way, like that of being with my love. It crawls with death, and in that death is the representation of how much I hate you.

     More than you, though, I hate myself. I saw this coming from a mile away and every time I tried to dodge the train you coaxed me into stepping back onto the tracks just before the train passed. I hate myself for being so weak. I hate myself for losing track of what I knew was most important. I'm worlds apart from myself and I have no way of travel. I've been trying to find a way to join the two but I can't find the technology. I hate from so far away even when I'm talking right to you, it seems. I'm never all there and everything I feel just festers in my mind. Boils and curdles. It never spills over and never tastes sour, but when it's cooking and over heating, I know its there. I try to stop trying; but then I just don't try enough. I try to do my best; but then I fail at everything.

     Your mascara is running and I know I've said this before but you don't make me sorry. For now I know, that you never listened. I watch you, you know, as you wipe your eyes and it doesn't change a thing about how I feel. The Hate. That is all.