Hate.

Hate.

They hated each other.

He hated her,

she was the reason

for each burning cigarette.

She hated him,

he was her justification

for every empty glass.

It was she, who made his fingers bleed,

on the steel strings of his guitar.

It was he, who made her color palette

diluted on the white canvas.

Poisoned to the bones,

they hated each other,

relentlessly, vehemently

and

unknown to each other.