I hate you. 

I hate you so much I want to scream. 

I hate you because you are weak and because  you made me weak. 

You poison me, 

curl your slippery arms around my body as if to protect me and hug me close to your chest. 

Then you squeeze. 

And I'm suffocating.

 I struggle to breathe.

I try to hide it with a smile, but you see through me. 

You can see through every barrier I put up 

and I hate that you can. 

I hate that whenever you're close to me I feel like I can't breathe.

 I hate you.

I remember when I loved you,

 when I admired you, 

for the way you looked at me. 

I felt protected. 

I felt loved. 

Now whenever you come close I tense, every glance feels like a glare, 

every touch feels like a slap. 

I've learned to stop being surprised by your actions because now I know. 

I now know you.

I know you. 

I've known who you are for a long time now. 

I guess I never wanted to admit it but I'm telling you. 

I know. 

I know about the empty promises,

 I know what it's like to float in the possibility that they might be real. 

I've learned not to try to look deep into your eyes for emotion, 

like a blind man in the desert cupping his hands up to the sky begging for rain, 

because I know that every time I'll end up empty-handed. 

I loved. I hated. But now I know.

C.H