Image result for woman and man in painting

She loves what she hates—

And so she loves me,

And hating, like love, cannot be helped;

We hate what we cannot see,

For seeing is a kind of love,

And is love, in the infinite eye.

Hate obscures our seeing;

She hates me so much it makes her cry.

Her hate is a tear in her eye.

She loses love, not seeing me accurately.

She errs, she mistakes, she slanders me

In hot, passionate hate

Which resembles love; such is her fate,

That others ask, why do you speak

So much of him? Is it hate? Or love—which makes you weak?






  1. noochinator said,

    September 30, 2016 at 10:41 pm

    They say the opposite of love isn’t murderous hate, it’s utter indifference — but all the same, I much prefer utter indifference!

  2. thomasbrady said,

    October 1, 2016 at 1:07 pm

    I could never be indifferent to you, Nooch!

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