Sonnet Viii Poem by Christian Crisostomo

I really hate myself for feeling this things:
I hate you as much as I love you,
I don't like you as much as I admire you.

I hate looking at your eyes
but your eyes are the reason why I smile;
I hate hearing your voice
but your voice is the reason why I breathe.

For you are the watershed that sings
and I'm a wandering maudlin man
who have been subjugated by your calmness;

I quaff the cold water from the deepest of your soul
And it takes me from reality to insanity.
You are the one who filled the nothingness in me
and the one who bridged the gulch between me and the reality.