When we first met, something
we brewed between us.
Impregnating me willingly.
We decided to call
this first child of ours-"Hate"
Hate was a curious kid.
It lacked limbs and features
Like smog it hung low
And napped most of the time
between us.
Incapable of expressions, it couldn't even talk.
Sometimes in silence, I would even
forget that the existence of
our love "hate" existed,
Until you would remind me.
Now and then "hate" grew
and so grew the distance
Between you and me.
He took up a lot of space
in the bed and the house.
In those slight moment of proximity
I'd wonder if someone was babysitting our kid.
A dominating and attention seeking child it was.
Out hate, wouldn't love apples, or candy and jam.
It grew fond of our "uncared for" egos.
And grew fat, for there was a lot to eat.
For dessert it would relish some misery
and the many unsaid words
I hid in my closet from you.
It would crunch happily on that.
Im sure you fed it loads too.
Otherwise how did it become so plump, so quick ?
I never asked you
and you never told.
Do you recall the time when
only me and hate slept on the bed.
You had to do with the mattress outside.
I didn't wish that for you
But I was helpless.
A child's need is more important you see.
Hate is what happened to us when we were in love.
I struggled my all for its custody
When we split.
But you got the most of it.
I had it in my idleness,
Reckless sundays and the late evenings.
When the weather outside was good.
Or when I ran out of water in the house.
Ours born was besides me
While I reclined on the dusty bed,sneezing.
Like a clueless new mother,
I ignored our first child,
because you were around.
I let it be, while I tried to fit in to you
Body and fingers.
Hate, the child of our doom
Now takes advantage of the upsetting past.
It reminds me of my sluggish upbringing
And my incapabilities.
Its a hungry child, who ate you up,
Your existence, the good I saw in you.
The locked cupboard of fond memories
Its consumed them too.
Misbehaved, does he do this to you too ?
Hate my child, is never content.
After he ate you,
He is now feeding on me too.
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