The Line Between Love and Hate

February 22, 2018

I fell in love,

in love with the idea of love.
I was only fourteen,
He was seventeen.


With blue eyes,
hands strong enough to hold me,
and lips that spoke softly.
Love bloomed red roses,
and purple poppies.


“No one will ever love you like I do.”
Words fell like snow,
soft sweet snow.
Days pass in blissful harmony.


I was under a spell,
you cast with loving actions.


Homecoming ended in blue fabric
and kisses at my doorstep.
Prom started with a red ripped dress,
dripping regret down a dark hallway.


You casted it in sinful pride,
I was under a spell.


Days pass in painful surrender.
Words fall like rain,
cold, bitter rain.
“No one will ever love you.”


Purple poppies turned into bruises
and hate wilted faded roses.
Lips screaming red rage.
Hands big enough to swallow my guilt,
sharp blue eyes stare into my soul.


He was nineteen,
I was only sixteen.
I was scared that this was it.
I fell into a dark hole he dug and called it love.

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