I have said “I forgive you” 490 times.
You asked me if I knew I was a dumb ****. One.
You told me it was my fault he left. Seven.
The numbers are lost on me after that
But they follow, illogically, a logical progression
Like the patterns formed by the spaces in-between
Words, trickling down past what is happening.
The plot is unknown, at times even random,
but the spaces are most certainly predetermined.
At 490, the count resets to zero.