To Be Sung to the Tune of ‘My Favourite Things’

Ignoring our trauma, gaslighting each other.
Hating your girlfriend ‘cuz she’s like your mother.
Stories we play out like puppets on strings
Deluded in thinking we’re choosing these things.

When my love shouts,
When tension mounts,
When we say, “You’re fucking mad!”

I simply remember we don’t choose a thing, and then I don’t feel
Sooooo bad.

(A version of this poem was first published in my pamphlet L’etoile, October 2024. Redacted copy available here: https://ashleydunn.co.uk/letoile-redacted/)