striking

there are too many candles burning discontent
around the bed,
while i become these distressed phone calls
and voice mails
addressed to you,
which you ignore so eloquently
it's poignant

poignant,

like all the decisions you won't make
and the words i never should have said
killing themselves in this silence

in this silence
another cigarette and another drink
and oh.
i can't see how i could have thought
we were reinventing the cliches
creating something
striking
the pieces of a wine glass
shattered lifeless on the floor.

but honestly- - - - - -

i can't say i don't have my doubts,
when it's 6 a.m. and i'm back on the phone,
counting on my fingers how many days it's been
since i last saw you
(nine)
and when you finally say "hello,"
(like you mean it)
i step back
into all the candles i left burning

and really

"i think you caught my heart on fire."

-for the boy. yet again. of course.