Please Don't Hate Me

May 7, 2008
By Rosesalie Boulom, Amarillo, TX

I saw the anger in his eyes. The speed of the car started to build up. I sat in the passenger seat, arms around my legs, holding myself together. My heart was suffering, desired to see him smile. His fist clenched around the wheel, concentrating on the winding road, concentrating on the silence that surrounded us.


I don't like it when people I love hate me. I pressed my hands against my face, feeling the tears, hiding them from him. I love him, and at that moment I was hoping he didn’t hate me, hating me for the lies, deceiving his trust, the trust that I earned and loved for centuries. I wanted to tell him not to hate me, to forgive my mistakes. I wanted him to love me again.

I laced my fingers around his clenched fist. The warmth of his hand absorbed into mines. "Hunny" I whispered.
"Please Don't Hate Me"


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