You asked me to forget you,
forget I even knew you,
but you keep dialing me,
hanging up just to hear my voice.
You’re breathing heavy,
and part of me thinks you’re fucking
masturbating, crackling whispers,
and I so shouldn’t be turned on.
You’re over it, or so you say you are.
I’ll know it when you change your
number, so I stop calling to hear you
asking whether it’s me again through
your hurried tone.
You get off to seeing me sleep alone,
staring in the windows, watching me toss
and turning through memories, I’d forget if
I’ve taken the last pill to let you go,
but I pumped my stomach with a picture
of us above the fireplace.
Dying is no place to spend time in hell.
I’d much rather embrace the heaven
I found in you screaming. I give up; I love you.
Hold the phone; I need you alone.
(© 2022 AC)
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