It's 2 in the morning.
You're lying in bed, on FaceTime with a man named John.
He was released from prison two weeks ago.
In a month, he'll be in rehab again.
But you don't know that yet.

The screen freezes as you get a call from me.
You ask him to wait as you let my call ring, ignored.
He knows I exist.
I have no clue he exists.
As far as I know, you're asleep.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting at the edge of my bed, 3,000 miles away.
I've just received the news that my cousin is dead.
I'm sobbing, trying to get a hold of you somehow.
Desperate to have someone I can talk to about this,
But you're the only one.

The call stops ringing, and you go back to FaceTiming him.
You prop your phone up on a pillow and let him watch you take your shirt off.
No bra underneath.
You show him how well you can ******* the toy I bought you.
You twist around and show him your naked ***, the *******.

The two of you ******* together.
I interrupt unknowingly every fifteen minutes, needing you.
You swipe my calls away and do what he asks you to do.
You both ***, then talk for hours.
I sob at the edge of my bed, begging you to answer in another voicemail.