A conversation with an individual whose privacy I will respect has inspired me to post a poem I wrote about 10 years ago. I was either a senior in high school or a freshman in college. It's not likely to be confused with the works of Robert Service, but I've written worse.


No, I will not let you.
I cannot let you.

Don't make me hate you.

Hate is too bitter.
It hurts to burn with fury,
Boiling in discontent.

I mourn a loss:
The loss of the sweetness of friendship.
Kindness has the cool beauty of the calm sea.
But I fear that when the fires of anger die,
Cool comfort will not remain.

Instead, there'll be a cold to chill the soul
And a silence like death.

Frozen hearts shatter.
And not even the warmth of the sun
Can repair the damage.

No, I will not hate you.

I would sooner die.