Strange how muttered words
Echoed with spite,
Short lived though they are
Are later regretted,
But cut deep none the less.
‘Hate you’ she spat,
Face twisted and grotesque
Before slamming the door in angry exit.
She later returned with apologies and remorse
But all I could see were those words
As though she had cut them in the air between us.
‘Hate you’ she had said, with malice and spite.