As Much Or More

On the fifth of the month, I asked you to get the fuck out,
and you did no such thing,
so I recounted everything for you,
and it was in my last harangue that I figured as much,
that I figured it all out

Sex was never the weapon,
you were
because you felt nothing on the left side of your chest
because you felt nothing in you cortex

There was nothing cerebral or correct or just about any of this,
but you taught me that,
that justification was nothing if not confounding

unless it was out there swimming in solitude,
in a pool of dissipating virtue,
somewhere beyond the Fata Morgana