And I hate them because

The first one was ashamed
She ran off when people found out about her shameful secret
Gaze no longer meeting
the eyes she said were bright enough to grow flowers

She hates me too
because it’s my fault her parents recoil from her
I don’t understand why they’re disgusted by a garden

The second one wanted to ground me
He said my head was in the clouds
Sternly repeating that life has no meaning
“Emotions are just chemicals; stop writing,
stop crying, and talk to me like a real person!”
Why was he so fascinated with space
but unable to see the galaxies in me?

He doesn’t hate me
because hate is hot, boiling chemicals
and he is cold

The third one was raging fire
Beautiful and blinding
Too bright to realise the flames were lightbulbs
I couldn’t see past the light
But he saw lots of things
...and lots of people.

He doesn’t hate me
the ash of our past has been swept under the rug
Isn’t fuel supposed to be replaced anyway?

I know that people aren’t questions to be answered
but
I can’t help but wonder
How many weeds before a garden returns to the wild
How many supernovas to undo a universe
How long before a match burns out

Maybe I don’t hate them