Conversations with an ex
easily turn into poetry
b/c that connection
cringes between the pressure
of what you don't want and what you may need right now.
Even if you never mention a name,
the lines SCREAM
replicating every fight you ever had
or they stammer in silence.
The battery hold outs
denying it's notorious choices to do so
any other time
and NOBODY else calls
no beeps
just the sound of the voice you've been avoiding.
After an hour full of lies,
you sit in that same space
before the call
alone
in your bed
on a Friday night.
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