I loved that you hated me.

I bathed in your hate, pulling it from you, relentlessly [ purposefully latching to it, like to a numbing drug ].

Such a frail life hating me… powerful in its irony, the strength of your feelings intoxicating 

and… beautiful. Raw, like a burst of sunlight under veins made of pure shadows.

I longed for your suffering, knowing that you will hate me even more.

Until..

… until I saw it’s not enough.

Until the cruel and delightful touch of hate became a dying star and I knew it won’t 

satiate me anymore.

Your strength became tempting, your perseverance intriguing.

Your soul opened slowly, showing darker shades.

The night blossomed in you like a nocturnal flower.

And I didn’t desire your hate anymore.

I desired you.

And your determined shine, gleaming against the wall of pain I created for myself.

Thorn and the violent rose. Eclipse and a dark side of the moon. The ruledom of dead winter days.