Hate

 My enemy came nigh, 
And I 
Stared fiercely in his face. 
My lips went writhing back in a grimace, 
And stern I watched him with a narrow eye. 
Then, as I turned away, my enemy, 
That bitter heart and savage, said to me: 
"Some day, when this is past, 
When all the arrows that we have are cast, 
We may ask one another why we hate, 
And fail to find a story to relate. 
It may seem then to us a mystery 
That we should hate each other." 

Thus said he, 
And did not turn away, 
Waiting to hear what I might have to say, 
But I fled quickly, fearing had I stayed 
I might have kissed him as I would a maid.

Form: Dramatic Monologue

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