Hate

She kissed me like she hated me
she kissed me to draw blood
she kissed me like I had wronged her mother at a public affair
like I had taken sunshine from the sky
like I had positioned myself to always ruin her plans
like I had poisoned the wells of villages
and killed innocents.

She kissed me with a force that could only be response
to great misdeeds
worthy of history
and worthy of the disdain of generations to follow.

She ran her hands through my hair
with an executioner’s movements
like a firing squad checking for life
after a justified execution.

She bit my lip
like one bites into a cyanide capsule after capture
and if she could have found a way to grind my teeth
into dust
I have no doubt she would have done that as well.

As a man who knew he deserved his fate
I was unable to fight back
and happy with one last kiss
that could never be forgotten.

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