HATE is not… forgetting what was done, or forgiving those who did it. It is not moving on, nor taking each day at a time, or trying to find a light in the darkness, that banishes shadows and chains.
HATE is not… calm and considered, nor warm and willing. It is not letting go, it feeds on pain, freshly and fiercely eating away from the inside out corrosive in its refrain.
HATE is not… the sweet ripe fruit of love or reflected honey sunlight. More, bittersweet calabash, washed down with sharpness and edge. Acid soured in the sediment of night, when sleep runs for cover again.
We were never meant to last
(You) look at me fuck at me then left your hook in me.
Dive down to me thrive in me be alive in me.
Bleed through me breed through me kept yourself freed of me.
Gold in me bold in me fold in the lies of me.
Laid by me frayed by me never to stay by me.
Come by me run by me done and be shun by me.
Breath in me seethe in me ever to leave me.
Alison Hramiak is a poet and writer living and working in West Yorkshire, England. She is published in several Forward Poetry and New Contexts anthologies, and on various poetry web sites such as Impspired, Dirigible Balloon and The Causley Trust. She reviews books for web sites aimed at giving immigrants and refugees a voice, and reads a lot about archaeology and anthropology. She edits and reviews poetry and is an active member of several poetry groups, such as Consilience (scientific poets). Her work can be found at: www.poetryforlives.co.uk.
After/Thought Literary 