You know it would be a nice change if one of us
actually had a backbone, we wouldn't be sitting in this silence
at the kitchen table picking at food we won't eat.
We could actually be living instead of just making mockeries of everything.
Instead you're trying to make-believe that you matter
while portraying the victim in every scenario possible.
(Just because you're the victim doesn't mean you're weak.)
I guess our first problem is I am still trying to get over
just how beautiful you really are and you're still tugging away,
pulling everything from me that you can. If I am not naked
and vulnerable then I am no use to you at all.

You call and a two-sided conversation breaks.
You ask how I am and I debate about telling you exactly
how I really feel or if I should just expect you to know.
In the end I just hang up the phone
and bury myself under layers of bedding;
regrets already being formed into stories by my fingertips.