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,

and again, tell myself
to forget


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 fa├žade

to craft another sonnet
makes me yawn,

convinces me to call it a night.