The phone rang again last night
He carried new versions of last spring’s heartbreak, in a brand new season
We’d taken some time apart, and while I loved the freedom, my life’s destined to be his
We’re fatally; fatefully intertwined he’s my damned soul mate
We’ve gotten reacquainted over coffees on the afternoon; he knows how I take it; too much creamer for a fake delight, a little bit of sweet to lighten up the dark
He takes his black, without sugar or any messy mixed deceptions
I whisper, red eyed once again, ‘I haven’t anything to offer; you took too much before’
He remains silent, it’s his style, I’ve grown fond of these becoming characteristics; loyal, dependable, and while he can’t be exclusive he never stays away for long
I wouldn’t call what we have love, but an old fashion arranged marriage
He doesn’t mind my hearts to broken to hold and I don’t mention my resentment towards are lifetime commitment --- we just sit in each other’s company sharing our afternoon coffees with the same old problems staring at the same bad news.