I ball up my fists and drive them into the ground, where they get caked in mud and swell covered in bruises.
Blood drips from the cuts that lather the wrinkles and the folds of skin that have been broken.
I cry, "I hate you" poison seeps from my mouth
It's poignant and it's sweet and it's deadly
I scream "I hate you"
When really all I feel for you is love
It's real and swelling all big
Hatred is grief and grief is love with nowhere to go
It boils and overflows
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you"
Exhaustion ensues and my body subsides
"But god" I collapse, "but god I love you."
YOU ARE READING
Where The Grass Grows
PoetryA poetry collection about life & death, love, loss, & grief. Written through the lens of a 15-17-year-old girl. These poems are a collection of my story. Take care of them. They mean the world to me.
