I think what’s happened here is miscommunication
Or something of the sort
A failure to compromise, or a lit fuse too short
Some simple, unavoidable misunderstanding
Of something hardly usable
That can’t be super-glued or monkey glued
Or any type of glued
Just listen: I’m not supposed to be here
I left so long ago
That place where what you think matters
That place where I listen for your words
We’re non-incommunicado, just in the reverse
Sure I could have said it clearer
But the phrase “it’s over” is overused and terse
I prefer my way, my place
Where I whisper “I forgive you”
Even though neither one of us is hurt
Except me
Where I’m hurt, and it matters