It would be boring if it wasn’t so sad

 
I’ve become immune to these disappointments.
Your arms flail around
In spastic anger
And you scream
And you call me a whore
And you’re life is
Burning down around you....

Well, I’ve done this
Many times before
And the earth never opens
Enough to crack the surface  
And the sky still floats
Like an ocean of silk
Beyond us and above us.  
If you would stop yelling,
I could hear the obdurate chirps of the magpies
While they dance in the dewy grass behind you.  

Tell me again
That I’m too emotional.  
Because I hardly feel this at all
But I wish I could