Your smile is a song
I know every word to

Call number one
I was going to tell you
How much of a ***** you were
For making me feel like this
But I hung up

Call number two
I was going to tell you
That everything was your fault
And you were the reason
We would never work out
But I hung up

Call number three
I was going to remind you
Of all the things you said
To me the last time I saw you
But I hung up

Call number four
I was going to scream
Scream until my lungs exploded
And the world went black
But I hung up

Call number five
I contemplated driving
To your house
In the pouring rain
And tell you everything in person
But I hung up

Call number six
I remembered how your smile
Used to make life
A little more bearable
But I hung up

Call number seven
I remembered how your eyes
Light up the sky
Because the stars were jealous
But I hung up

Call number eight
I gave up all hope
Of trying to make myself
Not want you
But I hung up

Call number nine
I decided that I would say
Everything I could
To get you back
But I hung up

Call number ten
I started to cry
My hands were violently shaking
As I tried to hold the phone
But I hung up

And then came call number eleven
I heard your favorite song
And I looked down

Call number eleven
You told me
That you were sorry
And then you hung up

Pulling at heartstrings
Like a harp,
The delicate tremors of angels' voices
That cascade between metal and emotion,
Raw, vibrant crescendos of tears
In the back alley,
Mascara hitting the concrete
Like the raindrops,
Stale and scattered
By the storm that was stirred
In the bedroom the night before,
Passion flashing like lightning
Between the rolling clouds of
Bedsheets and bare skin,
All to wither like the retreating tide,
The rising of trouser legs
Like the Sun,
A walk of shame down a lonely road,
A seagull flying out to sea,
Wings spread beyond vast waves
Of boring bricks and patchwork ***-holes,

*Only to flee from the filthy hot mess of another conquest