the fine line

part of me is very angry.
part of me is hurt
again. the rest
of me is trying very hard
not to hate, because hate
is too close to love. anger
is still too much caring
for this bullshit. I must
detach. I must just
turn off the part of me
that still loves (desperately,
truly, madly, deeply)
because she has no place in
our world.

it’s better
for the art, he said.

no, but
okay.