I believe I said I was done with you,
So tell me why the hell is your voice still so familiar.
All my attempts to rid myself of you.
Rotting, with all the things I've hand labeled as self inflicted problems.

I see parts of you in people I meet.
Your physical appearance and similar tone in voice.
Exchanging words with those people make me want to shove shards of glass down my throat.
But I don't.
I smile.
Tell them, "you remind me of someone I used to know".
But I don't remember you anymore.

"Bitter liar."
Indeed I am.
The lonely socialist.
Because now I'm playing your game.
These aren't the same rules though.
And we're not playing fair.
You're cheating the system,
And you've got someone holding your hand.

But I'll shove your existence into the darkest parts of my heart,
Because I've made a special place for things I never want to come across.

And you still call.
You ask me how I'm doing,
But quite frankly, I could do without you interrupting at all.
I want to tell you to stop laughing,
Stop calling me about things that aren't relevant anymore.
But you'll invite yourself right back into my life.
Leaving a nostalgic taste of "calls beyond midnight"

Ideally, this distance would be sufficient enough to never hear your rhythmic speaking.
But realistically, I can hear the grinding of your teeth as you struggle not to repeat things.
Test my patience.
Regurgitate all the words that make me cringe.
Leave me livid and still longing,
Because I want nothing more than to never think of you again.