The Opposite of Love
If hate is not the opposite of love
If indifference is,
then I love them not at all.
And that would explain why bad news
does not surprise me.
Though I try to feign surprise to conceal
that I am merely skilled,
After long practice in the things
you say at times like these.
When any care I had crumbled to dust,
long ago.
When they are dead to me,
or I to myself.
Despite the warmth of the flesh
the moistness of breath.
After pain evolves
to no pain at all
You look for even a spark
of revenge tasting sweet,
But the dish lies cold
so long untouched
That I can say I rejoice not
in their pain.
But I leave them to it
and the warmth of its flame.
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