Seethe Apparition Poem by R.J. Bevans

Maybe if I had a room of my own, a place
of my own, where I could be reminded less
and less of your stolen hearts and your
feeble slurs, I would celebrate the pros, the
Professional, and more: the kindly benefits of
having you dear, but yes, until such a time
the guilt of debt reforms itself, until I
despise every mismanagement on your part
because I'm unjustified in complaining;
I'm a hypocrite if I peep about neglect or
respect or communicative responsibility.
If I whine. A Louse if lousy. O' t'is true
I know the heights of your generosity but
I a; so know too frequently, your broken
trenches and bare heart. It's not a matter
of 'love of hate' but a matter of shame
and a blurred line between what perception
of you I am able to bring to mind at will
in the selfish morning and boorishly
against my will come night. You're not
wrong because of my irresponsibility;
my financial and general inabilities.
You're wrong because I can't tell you
how dreadfully wrong I feel you are, and
the justice in my mind can't absolve you
from this serpentine sentiment I too often
project towards the apparition of you