Broken Poetry

I, Hate, and You.

Curled up in bed, aching for more of your affection and care, I cry until my eyes close with exhaustion. Even then, the ache for your love continues to rattle my mind. Tossing around the sheets of my bed, I dream of the days we once shared, the words we once spoke, and in the mist of it all, these tears of mine slowly roll down my cheeks. I remember the last words you said before you left me to suffer alone.

I.

Hate.

You.

The incredible power these words may hold, hit me a thousand times like vehicles racing on the road I lay. You left me broken and confused, wondering what I had done so wrong in order to anger you.

I jerk awake in my bed, sweat covering my skin, and tears still rolling down my face. I cried and cried. You haunted me even in my dreams, and dreams are supposed to be an escape from reality. And my reality is where you hate me, it sickens me to think about the things I have done, yet I still do while I try to find the reason why you left, why you abandoned me in this darkness. You are the reason... I hate myself.