No matter

how many times you make me feel

as though I must apologise,

I never hear the slightest murmur of a returned regret

or explanation, just the continued self-justified

rant of the hardly innocent, ever smiling, resolutely angry and bitter soul.

Is it possible

to feel more degraded than the way you made me feel,

the contradiction of the argument, the swallowing

of the pride in which would allow my dog

that barks down my ear, growls with impatience,

that slowly salivates and allows to drip

…