Drunk Dial

I’ll just
turn off the computer
before I do
something
really stupid, like
e-mail you again, when
I know, I really do know
that you
have no interest
in me
anymore or
need for me or
spark that
lights up when
you see anything
from me and
you haven’t even read
the last ones
but just
sent them into
firewall misery
burst into
ether digital flames
so why do I want
so, so badly,
just to tell you
that I miss you and
I think about you
every time I see that
stupid courtyard, every day,
and I check
to see whether
you still
list yourself
as single, but
what does that
matter anyways
you can’t
even look at me
not even digitally, anymore,
and
I’m just
a fading memory
of a silly time when
you lost your head
for just a bit, and
did things
you don’t ever
want to do again,
at least
not with
or because of
me.
Thank God
I deleted your number
and can’t
be so stupid
as to actually call.

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5 thoughts on “Drunk Dial

  1. Holy shit . . . did you write this or did I? (you must have snuck into my head during the night, read my thoughts, and translated them into a poem which expressed them far better than I ever could have). Nothing like having a cohort in loving one-who-doesn’t-give-a-shit to make one feel like less of a loser than one might or might not be.

  2. Pingback: “Word Press Family Award” Acceptance & Nominations | Iam Who Iam

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