I Don’t need your apologies. Your woes. Your perfectly constructed lies

Your soul reeks of metaphors that poets never cared to use in any of their stanzas

I would rather sleep with a poorly written critical analysis

Better yet, an unsupported research essay without a bibliography

Your insecure antics bore

Your ill conceived perceptions; I shall continue to ignore

Never mind you are of my blood

And I, love you, regardless

You’ll watch me bleed and wish for the dagger to be deeper in my flesh

I will cry out until I know better

You will cry louder because you know I never will

I will let you in and swallow your quiet apologies;

Praying for peace and chanting with ancient spirits; I will learn the language of the forgiven

Elsewhere, you will cry out loud again wishing me eternal misery

I will burn my candles in to the wee hours; still chanting my love for you:

Praying in the sense of a verb — risking my soul to conspire with unauthenticated Gods just to provide you spiritual relief