There's a poem for that

The way you look away at the moment your heart
creaks open, ever so slightly, the brass door chain
remains chained, a peek of light and then darkness.

There's a poem for that.

The way you immediately fall asleep without returning
the favor, without so much as a soft kiss goodnight,
as though your pillow is soaked in chloroform.

There's a poem for that.  

The way you reply to a long text of mine expressing
fear about the future, about us, with just a thumbs-up
emoji, like a pilot signaling the ground crew.

There's a poem for that.

The way you are never wrong, never responsible,
always talking over me, shouting over me,
like you are on the sideline of an invisible football game.  

There's a poem for that.

The way you refuse to go to couples therapy, even though
we have a stuffed silo of problems to work on, announcing,"our relationship doesn't need a referee."

There's a poem for that.

The way you are more concealing than revealing,
never telling the truth because you think it will
upset me and so you lie. Again, again, and again.

There's a poem for that.

This is that poem.