A poem about when love turns to hate
Pure vitriol spews from your mouth and
I wonder where the words have been stored.
A poison stream of malice
Gushes up from a deep well of fetid emotions.
From the roiling depths, spite gurgles in your throat.
Your lips form shapes I have never seen before
Contorted, pinched, snarling
Not the lips I have kissed a thousand times
Or the ones that gently whispered ‘I love you’.