Love and hate.

Such a fine line between the two

There is truth

Behind this saying

Believe me.

I know from experience.

This is, in fact, 

A tragic love story

But not that of a boy who stole my heart 

Then broke it in half

No no,

This a story of the woman who made this heart

And shattered it.

For me,

That fine line 

Between love and hate,

Is the threshold between my hallway

And the bathroom. 

You see, 

My issue is not with the room itself,

But that of which 

It has meant for me in my life.

My sink.

This is where 

My hands and my teeth are cleansed,

My face becomes new,

But also,

Where I look in the mirror.

I no longer recognise the reflection

Staring back at me 

Yet it is so familiar.

Blonde hair,

Blue eyes,

Pale skin

I see her

In me.

Her beauty,

It is something I’ve envied for so long.

Our physical resemblance 

However,

Only reminds me 

That I am like her.

And soon, unfortunately,

My reflection may not be 

The only thing about me

That is like her

That is nothing

Compared to the shower.

The place where I once slipped away

To hide from her hands

And her words

Safe and sound

In my porcelain hideaway.

No longer in danger

But still, to this day,

I always find myself back there

But of course,

What better place for privacy?

The sound of the water 

Shooting from the head

And the sound of music

Blaring from my phone

Drowning out 

The sounds of my weakness.

So I can allow myself

To cry.

To let the tears,

Filled with all my sorrows and pain

Flow from my eyes 

And trickle down my face 

Until finally they fall. 

Down the drain

Never to be seen again.

The warm water wraps itself around me

Filling the place 

Of the person 

That I wish were holding me

So,

You see,

How could I love the place 

Where I allow myself to be weak?

The place 

Where I feel so much pain?

But how could I hate it

If it is my escape from reality?

The safehouse 

That keeps my secrets 

And holds my pain

Deep within its drains?

And how could I love the woman

Who hurt me?

Who left my heart 

In pieces on the floor?

Who left me

For good.

But how could I hate her

The one who gave me life?

The one who made me

As strong as I am today?

The one who died

Wanting only my forgiveness.

Love and hate.

Such a fine line between the two.