Bitterness 1.2

by Ronald Joe Record

	I very nearly called you last night.
	A desire to flail you with words possessed me.
	Perhaps if i poured my anger over you
		like scalding water on a bed of ashes,
	You'd rise to life in a cloud of steam

	I stopped myself.
	Fearing romantic infection
	Seeking un-dreamt resurrection
	Hiding within my own imperfection

	My anger with you is elusive
	It slips from my grasp
		just as it reaches the heat of action.
	If i could hold it within me
		for just one more hour,
	The reflections of rejections and corrections
	Could burn the scars of scorn -
		cauterize derision's incisions
	Implode the black heart of disgust.

	I confess, my hatred for you is impotent.
	It is bathed and beaten from me
	By the blazing beauty
	Of the image you left
	Of yourself in me.

	I love that shining face.

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