You called again last night
As you have
Every night before,
And I felt your hand brush against mine
As if it slithered through the aging wires
Of our telephones;
Despite the countless miles
Between us
To feel the warmth of my love
Once more.

Did no one think to tell you,
Darling,
That my love has since gone cold?
Did they think to tell you that the miles have become
But mere symbols
Of the distance between my heart and yours?
Did no one bother reminding you,
Lover,
That your hand touched many others
In the dead of the night
When it promised to come home to mine
And that I cannot help but wonder
If those hands miss yours,
Like mine before them,
Even when I knew about what you did?

You asked if we could talk
And I couldn’t help but remember that
Seven months ago I made that plea my own;
This time,
For you,
It’s nothing more than borrowed words.

I say we forget the smalltalk,
Sweetheart;
The pointless conversation about our mothers and
The way you can never decide between a striped
And a plaid shirt.
Forget about the weather, and
My love of the stars
Because you never really cared for them anyway
And I want to know how it felt
To walk away from
The person you pretended to love.

I want to know if you boasted
When you told everyone
About the silly little girl back home;
The one who jumped at her own shadow,
Or the one that didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror
Looking back at her,
And even the girl you made feel worthwhile
Despite her visions of never quite being good enough
For the world she so desperately wanted to love.

I want to know if you told them about
Every fear;
Every flaw that I have ever dared to wear
Because it seemed that nothing else could fit quite right
And it’s easier anyway to settle with
Draping insecurity across your back
When you find that confidence just doesn’t come in your size.

I want to know if you thought of me,
Honey,
When you took her out to tea and
She always chose my favourite.
Or if you ever thought that maybe you shouldn’t
Take her to bed with you.
Not because you’re afraid that I might find out
But because three hours away I was dreaming about you
And how could you let yourself become
One of my greatest nightmares?

I want to know if your heart broke,
Even a little,
When you saw me crying at
The place where we first met;
The place where I first told you I loved you;
The place where I finally let go of your hand
And in it’s place I put my own.

You’ll call again tomorrow,
Darling,
In a drunken haze your heart will whisper my name
As clumsily as your mouth does.
I’ll feel your hand brush against mine;
I always do,
And while your voice echoes through the aging wires
Of our telephones,
Whispering tentative absurdities, like
“For old times’ sake”
Or
“I never meant for us to be like this.”
I’ll find the strength to pull away my hand
And put down the phone.
You see,
No more do I long for the touch of a ghost
Or the words of a boy who loved me even less than
I could ever love myself.