love and hate

An arrow

Not Cupid’s.

the tip dipped in poison before

released

to hit its target.

poison

not one that can be cured by a simple

antidote.

the arrow pierces air,

the tip sharp enough to cut soul.

pierces deep into your beating heart.

yet the heart continues beating,

though the poison does its work.

its work is silent,

quieter than a corpse in a coffin,

though you may as well consider yourself the same.

for when the poison has seeped into your very soul,

Impossible to distil out,

its effect is much like Cupid’s.

they say love is just like hate

a thin line,

one that sometimes goes invisible.

both done with a burning passion.

what fuels the hate?

perhaps being done dirty is the spark

that causes a full blown forest fire.

perhaps a knife lodged in your back was the pain

that morphed into hate.

but i think,

love is most easily turned into hate.

standing on the thin line,

the slightest whisp of wind could cause

a stumble,

forcing you to choose between

love

and

hate.

which ever is chosen, both is not easy to escape.

but whatever your choice,

regret is not an option.

love and hate

with a burning passion,

and whatever you do,

do not falter.