A resolution of hate, gave a newness to a life that was not befitting of myself.
The moment hate killed Mae, was the moment my flesh was compromised. She knew the violence in her blood turned black and never again will the innocent and pure blood flow.
Panic blurred my emotions as pain’s stab ripped deep without mercy into my flesh, fat, muscle… a change to the path for blood to bleed and abandon so as to be free. And freedom for Mae is now dead.
I hate you Mae.
You are not a sister, you do not exist.
Hate started to kill me and I wanted to embrace it.
. . .
Mae has an issue with coffee.
The espresso’s natural caramelized sugar’s intensity blind, inject pain and disorient Mae. Coffee is her hell and she drinks one cup once a year, sitting across from me. We’ve never talked since her attempt to kill me. We stare. We look into each other and learn. Not knowing what to say or figuring out what needs to be said is scary. My body turns cold, my bones suck in my mental frame and an uncontrollable shaking jokes with my logic. I’m frozen, I’m hazed and all I can do is give into my eyes.
The acceptance to humanity’s nature, circles me and that pain, sorrow and suffering pulled and gather into this place and into those eyes I stare… I struggle with fear and hopelessness. And I weep for loneness is instant and my heart breaks and shatters and burdens my pride. Hate for Mae is history but is history.
Joy Jane June
15th short 03.21.2019 acknowledgement