Odi et amo,
I read it in Latin and it still gets me low,
Catullus put it all so well,
When even he from his lady's favour fell.
It crucified him as it does me now,
Whenever I see her my mind is in a constant row,
Just want to stroll up to her and say its all right,
Not even looking at her being such a mental fight,
Not being able to hold her gaze,
Not being able to get through this endless phase.
Whenever our eyes meet she gives me a smile,
It grates at my heart like a blunt file,
She talks behind my back all the time,
Talking about me being just fine.
What does she know of what I feel,
What does she even know of what in me that is real.
I cannot even stay in the same room as her,
Without feeling her hate and somehow also her lure,
Yet I love her still,
To admit it out loud is still far too hard a hill,
Yet I hate her for what she has done,
And that stream of anguish will for eternity run.
Whilst I love and I hate,
Whilst it tears me apart at any rate,
Whilst I hate myself for everything I think and do,
Then I know I still can't get over you.
Inspired by Catullus's poem Odi et amo to Lesbia his lover.