I thought when
our friendship began,
I 'd start to see a pattern, a plan
but.
Calls at 3 AM with teardrops
down the receiver,
spouting nonsense like-
"Why oh why did i leave her?"

Were not expected.

I welcomed them sure,
but never had I handled this before.
This traumatic tirade of-
listless lovers that'd-
surround you suddenly.

But was now expected.

Then, at 5 in the morning
I noticed.
Your mouth. Breath had stopped drawing.
As you stared at your mural
you whispered "Tribunal"

Thus began your attack.
Hacking, blood drawn, across
what was our sofa. Now torn.

No more was that mural that tilted
that wall ever so slightly.
As for me?

I left the room quietly.