the unilateral decision concerning bilateral hearts

You twice asked me to completely move on,

as if it were like stretching,

and not like rubbing sand to make diamonds.

I am amazed, blinded by your persistent

faith, by your dedicated, Catholic belief

that we are wrong for each other.

I wish I could sing like a lute;

words aside, harmonizing to your lilting voice.

But alas! I have lost. I am jazz to your self-reflective pop.

I once avoided an argument with you

over the use of the word ironic by Alanis Morissette.

We both remained smitten by her song.

It appears ironic to me that you were the only

one who fastidiously held to your druthers

that my death was not rapidly approaching.

This is ironic because, in truth, it was your hand,

thrusting that heavy dagger of disbelief

up under my rib, piercing my heart, and bleeding me out.