You did not forge these words lightly.
I know because you said them through your teeth.
It was late—maybe one or two. You said it quietly and through the phone.
There are some things you didn’t say and some that you wish you had and some that you wished you hadn’t said at all.

But these were the words that brought us down from when we were on top of the world.

You told me I wasn’t the only one.

As you said these words, all I could hear were the echoes of the truths that you whispered when you thought I was sleeping—and the lies you said while you were drunk and I was crying and suddenly it felt
Like there were too many miles between us.

Then, when it was all over, you told me you still loved me
Except this time, I knew to discern your lies from your half-truths.