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
…