lectio

I have never hated someone, I realised.
When I was younger, I would have disagreed.
At some point, I was full of something I misread as hate.
I thought I hated him.

August.
For all that he had destroyed.
But after all these years I understand.
My hate was never directed at him directly.
It was more the image I hated, than the person. 

Of him and you. 
And whenever I close my eyes, I see it again.
Your eyes as they followed his movements.