I think a lot about the night you apologized for touching me;
I think about it in the same way a victim
would review a crime,
go over it again,
and again, tell myself
It's not a happy place to revisit for me, your name
or face in my mind.
You bred amazing poetry for me once,
but now, conjuring the ghoul of your façade
to craft another sonnet
makes me yawn,
convinces me to call it a night.