i loved you then.

there were days and there were days,
quiet ones wrapped into each other, nothing
to say because nothing had to be said and days,
listening and watching and moving slow and scared,
doubtful, careful, don’t want to disturb—
and fifty manic insane screaming bloodless hours
running and yelling and i don’t fucking care
not about you
not about anyone

(but i cried nights,
and held your hand in my sleep)

and calm, peaceful, more blended minutes and seconds spent
having nothing to be said and hours to be regained,
those silly talking ones better used in
listening, and getting to re-learn.

and there was today, and an end to days

and right now
i hate you.