as if

would you wear yourself out on your lusts
& then expect my pardoning hand, as if i wasn’t just
would you harbor all that robbed me of my blood
& then expect my arms, as if their veins hadn’t been the ones

would you spit on my face, & abuse me til i’m half-blind
as if i hadn’t spit in the dust, & put the mixture on your eyes
would you nail my wrists with the hammer i taught you to swing
& then expect me to raise you up, as if you were my king

would you swear another thing to me, as you die within
as if i expected you to raise yourself from the grave you fell in
would you cover your nakedness, here, in my garden
as if my arms would withdraw if they felt the dirt on your skin