A chapter of loathing.

Oh, to loathe,
A sentiment one must feel,
Between the privilege of love and
The torture of forgetting.

As stealthy as a swift wind,
Blowing through an unknown crack in a
Supposedly formidable wall.

No other feeling will be as powerful,
As the one that drives you,
To grow afraid of your deepest love
And turn it into hate.

Yet as distant as it is,
All who love must loathe,
In order to be able
To love once again.