Quill to Stone

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I Cannot Fear Hate

My carefully crafted
diction is the bear trap
that crushes
both of your legs.
You cannot run.

Since we met
I have stopped
liking myself out
of my own mental
decay. It was not
your affection
that taught me to
truly hate myself to
the point where I don’t
believe in love or that
if it even existed
that I was worthy of
even a sliver.

I have never hated
anyone
or anything
as much as
I do myself
lately.

For your sake,
I wish you had never
met me. I’m terrified
of hurting you.
And I know it’ll be me
over the inevitable
geographical distance
that will kill us.

I’d trade every smile
you have loaned me
for every single moment
of sadness headed
to your front doorstep
wrapped with a white bow.

All because I opened
my bear trap jaws to
introduce myself,
with words chosen
to obscure the
self that makes me cringe.