I Think I Hate You

I think I hate you.

I can feel the tears,
somewhere between my nasal passage
and my ducts.
Holding them back, they burn,
acidic, white hot
and raging out against you.
My teardrops hate you.

Cutting their path down my cheeks
in scorn for you,
torturous and loathing.
My heart burns too,
the image of you blazing through
the tubes and blood and bones and soul.
But my heart won't hate you.

It will hate itself.
It will hate the construction
which led me to this and
the society that hates it back.
My wrists can't hate you

Weeping though they are.
They sting only of that love lost.
But my teardrops hate you.

Author's Note

Oh can't you just smell the teen angst in this one...