What did we even argue about in that horseshoe place in Sonoma? I remember my pitch being higher than I expected. I was so exasperated with disappointing you, and knowing I was bound to do so more and more often as I spun out. You must’ve thought “Why can’t you just get your shit together?” I didn’t have a leg to stand on with you if I wasn’t producing. Humanity comes from God, but woman is separate from Him. She is a she, and He a he, after all; He got the heavens and She got the earth. Boy did she. And now our little tortured manifestations have to live with your scorned, separated, expectant, veiled revenge every day since the dawn. Some guy mercilessly ripped the covers off of you one frigid morning –all you had going for you, the lunar eclipse of the comforter– and forever, I’m the asshole that must sacrifice his sheets each night (no matter the temperature) as you grow colder of me for my lack of “proper” manifestation of that first offender you hate so god-damned much.