I don't hate you, how could I?
It's true that I have distanced
myself from your loud presence,
bittersweet soles at home
instead of in that rumbling choir loft.
Maybe none of are ever capable
of loving hatred, clinging to it
like it will wrap us in safety.
But we're humans, we know
we can't live with those webs
below us.
I was told today that I'm
wandering through the tunnels
of grief, the second stage
called anger - I'm not stupid
enough to keep blaming you
when I know I had choices
