The Track That Skips

But he told,
he told,
he told,
he told,
me so.
Background noise
telling me about your weekend
white noise, while in foreground
I ask, When did I start hating you?
But he told,
he told,
he told,
he told
me it’s normal.
And I have to believe,
believe you,
believe you,
because I love you
when I am not dreaming of anywhere else
but here.