The Art of a Disagreement

Sing me one of those songs I used to like because you sang

Tell me one of those jokes I used to like because you wrote

String me along like a man of principles who had none

Ignore everything I confided in with you

Inject yourself with whatever it is you do to get convenience

Let it drench your insides and cloak you with amnesia

And all this so that you can convince me that it was nature

and that you weren't a bad person

because you were reading from the epistle with sincerity

Then I would point my index finger north

and away from the likes of you

but just against the fissures in my lips

And I would start a silent prayer

in my peripheral, the pillow that belonged to you last week

and with all eyes on the glass of water at my bedside