I don't hate you.
No, hate is too strong a word.

I loathe you,
A secret burning anger,
That can singe you, 
Leave you burned.

But it is not hate.

I detest you,
A flagrant declaration
Filled with disdain and backward glares.
Peppered with biting comments and snide remarks. 

But it is not hate.

Because hate is a war that never ends.
It is the sounds of a battlefield.
It is the two sides, 
Cleaving deep canyons between friends,
With allies on one side
And enemies on the other.

It is the bitter tang of regret
The salt in the wound called longing,
For what could've been, what would've happened,
If we stayed together
If we never met. 

Hate is the dropping of a bomb
That blows everyone away
Leaving no one unharmed,
Burning bridges and collapsing foundations.

Hate is the mutual destruction
That helps no one
But ravages everyone.

Hate is the burning of brand,
The fire in the windows of the soul,
Seen in the eyes that seethe with maliciousness.
The scar that never fades,
The heat that consumes, but never creates.

I'm tired. 

I don't want to hate.

So I loathe. I detest. I glare.
But I do not hate.

How can I hate something that I once loved?
You brought light into my life,
And you were kind enough to leave it there
Once you left.
How can I hate when there will be casualties?
Of those who supported us wholly,
Of those who listen to us and heal us
And care for us deeply.
How can I declare war, set down a battlefield,
When we both just want nothing to do with each other?
Our mutual ignorance
Of each other's existence
In heated silence
Is enough.

To hate is to clash once again,
To remind you that we were once something
To admit that I still care.

Life goes on.
Now that I'm not buried in your arms,
I can see
Everything around me.
The love I still receive,
The love I still have to give.

I can see you are not worth my time,
My hate.
I do not hate.

I let you go.
I let you fade like a long forgotten nightmare.
Or perhaps you were a dream.

But I've woken up,
And can no longer remember.