Phone Conversation
So I called, merely to set a thought at rest. A simple turn of phrase I wish you were there. The response, not a reply, I can't even begin to describe how much it hurt. I wish for a moment I was able to be dishonest with you, to scream about how you must wait and bide your time to be able to hurt me quite like this. The brutal truth is that you walk heavily in others' psyches like I do, but don't bother to watch where you're going or what you're doing. I could scream about how much you don't deserve me, but that would be an understatement of unbelievable proportions.
Again, it washes over me, like the taste of blood or bile that precedes vomit. The sense crawling over my skin like the desire to put holes in my walls. I should go for a walk, get away from anything breakable or dangerous, but all that would probably do is give me bloody knuckles again, with little golf ball shaped swelling bumps after the hand shrinks back to regular size as mountain ranges to the lakes of red. You talk about missed chances, but that is a part of the single great Lie you have chosen to believe. Everyone constructs their own world, and they make it in a likeness to their desires. I have officially been hold to agreements that you yourself could not keep. The word monogamy drips from your lips like poison. Look up the word hypocrite, and you will find your picture.
I wonder if you'll even remember the conversation either.