Her eyes were large and indignant

as she yelled at me.

I am certain that my own two eyes

looked equally stony and cold.

Her words were cruel,

as were mine.

For that instant,

that singular moment, I hated her

from the depths of my soul,

all the while loving her.

She quieted and glared

and I wanted to cry,

To just break down and sob,

because, despite my pride,

I innately knew that her words rang of truth.

I wanted her acceptance and her comfort,

not her painful, hurtful words.

I loved her because I knew

this scene showed she cared.

But then, I looked up at the hardness in her face,

in her eyes.

I knew she was suppressing her desire to cry as well,

But continued to glower and shout.