Spillage

For the words that are hardest,

Are not build by the artists,

but short and nothing sweet,

The simple sound,

of a single beat:

I hate you.

Means a thousand fists,

Beating you into a corner,

where the only retort left to find 

                         in this 

                the cataclysm of social disorder

is to fight back

or step away;

I'm sorry,

that pinches against the grain,

and makes us understand to pass the burden of pain,

That we consider ourselves

just as we consider
One another again,

Thank you.

Is grateful, and means so much more.

than words contain.
So in eyes it is gained

 (pried in a moment) before

those same spy the floor,

But,

where those eyes met,

and stare into the iris hue,

No words so simple,

Could capture the jingle,

Of an,

I 

Love

You