Emily Winters                                                                                                                  

“The Fallout”

What does it mean to hate?

It’s the heat

As it radiates from your skin;

The aroma that recalls a time

Of burnt holes in sweaters

And scorched fissures around my heart –

Aren’t we just a nuclear fallout?

We had our chance.

Nothing more than a lifeless shell,

A body without a soul –

Love is not something to hurt about,

Quaking in your boots with the fear

Of being found out -

No,

Love is only a word.

When did all the feeling

Waste away?

The bitterness that’s sifted into my veins

And eating away at the pipes

As to let everything important and vital

Drain away,

Stole in between our sheets

And grew the brambles that stick and prod

Our entwined hands.

Loathing

Is a disease

That infects the victim, the bystanders;

The unintentional casualties of the firefight of life

And escalated arguments that

Climax with spirit sparklers and scarlet fondue.

Hatred is the thing

That we swallow with sips of tea

And dainty fingers,

Surveying the passerby

With the careful appreciation of a

People savant –

The master of what to say

And how to walk;

When to love but never

Talk.

Animosity and revulsion

Is the flower

That we sow

Every time we kiss;

The bomb buried as the

Aftermath is secured.