wrong number

The thoughts go racing ’round my head
Exhilaration and guilt, fascination and disgust
Of you, of me, of all the memories
Most of which I truly don’t recall

Though the security of your devotion was real enough
and it lingers there still
On the corners of your mouth
Tainting all of your words sickly sweet
Making me cringe, yet holding me rapt
Like watching the aftermath of a train wreck
Seeing the carnage down the tracks
Knowing I am what derailed you

While some idealized adoration seeps from you like blood
Coating your tongue
turning everything you say
Into an unrequited plea for mercy
Yet all I can hear is the sound of my own
Laughter, righteous and haughty
Coming from somewhere within, someplace dark
Dusty, forgotten, and echoing through me
Like shouts reverberate in dense caves

As I listen to my cackling, I wonder
Why you would want to subject yourself
To such a lethal ride again
You’re full of hope and of longing
When you tell me you’ve missed me

And I hang up the phone.

© CSM

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