We walked for about an hour

Or so, talking a quarter of the way.

She brushed the blonde from her hair

In a fashion that mentioned hatred.

Not remembered hatred but a learned hatred.

However the hatred was mutual.

 

A couple for about a year

Or so, in love about a quarter of the time.

When I say love I mean

A lack of learned hatred.

 

The road merely a continuum of dusk

Silent was the sneaky mist.

It hushed and lulled, compromised

What little noise the distance made.

 

On reaching the ridge we stopped

Bits of rock peeled off the side

Like withered skin.

So many previous lovers had

Kissed and died here.

My question had followed us all the way

And now persisted for an answer as reward.

 

She brushed the blonde from her hair

In a fashion that mentioned hatred.

 

Began to speak in an ancient alphabet

That was forgotten for a reason.

And there it was.....

 

With a sarcasm that would

End a hundred wars

And begin a million.

"I would never fuck him"

Her words leaped over the edge

Before I could imagine response.

 

No more continuum of dusk.

No more questioned hours.

No more fashionable hatred.