I hate that word;

with its loneliness and hidden lies,

empty promises and heart break.

It’s a double-edge sword;

one that’s never dull, but never

sharp either.

It cuts over and over;

unrelentingly in its strikes,

draining me dry.

Why can’t you say it?

Tell me the truth, not a

bouquet of lies.

You never wanted my heart,

never my soul, my being,

me.

I hate that word;

a metaphor for a lie,

a simile for loneliness.

A fire that devours a forest

with hot passion, only to

leave disgusting black soot.

It takes what was once

innocent, and leaves

it to rot.

Why can’t you say it?

I don’t want to know.

Put the mask back on.

Hide the truth with lies,

with deceit, with your

cold cruel painted eyes.

I hate that word;

it’s never what it means,

never real.

Why can’t I say it?

Feel it? Trust it?

Why can’t you mean it?

Show me how you feel.

If you hate me, show me.

If you want me, show me.

Don’t say you love me

if it’s a lie. Don’t say

you need me, when you don’t.

I hate that word

when you say it,

because you don’t mean it.

But from the bottom of my heart,

from the depth of my soul

I will say it.

because for me,

it’s all I have.