Catholic

It’s three in the morning
The alcohol has worn off
And I know you’re disappointed
In my response to your advances
You say you’re sorry
But not to my surprise
You can’t remember what for
And your words were like a dream
Playing over in my head
Every word I’ve prayed to hear
For so long,
Each one dripping
With the insincerity of all that had come before
And I wonder if manipulation
Was a course you took
In Catholic school
Because like the Devil, himself
You twist and exploit my emotions,
Hoping for personal gain,
Wearing a mask of righteousness
Rotting with a stench of decay
And I must admit I’ve grown weary
of working to find some sense of respect for you

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