He tried to teach me one night.
Not the first, not the last.
We've tried this many times over  
and I'm just as frustrated with myself
as I was in the beginning.

Strumming nothing,
Why am I so easily angered?
I loath his naturalness and the way his
fingers desperately desire to fulfill
the spaces mine fail to be.

Just when I think I hate him
enough to move locations,
I can hear him in the other room,
playing a song for me.