I sat up from my lump of blankets. I was in a deep puddle of cold sweat. My familiar orange digital clock showed me the witching hour.
I stared at the few lights on my desk, and then my attention was grabbed by my phone.
It was ringing.
It was ringing.
My heart skipped several beats, and stopped when I saw who was calling me.
That damn girl again. There goes my heart.
At a point in time, I promised this girl so much.
Blue blood on a wedding ring, a nice green view, plenty of furry friends scurrying around our expensive house on the coast of some pretty European country.
But now, all I could promise her is that I'd pick up every single time and fall for her with each hateful word thrown at me.
Intoxicated or not, I knew where she was speaking from. It wasn't her heart, she was lying to herself. I knew her.
No matter how much she said she hated me, I knew what she was really doing. She was avoiding the truth, dodging pain and responsibility.
When I pressed that green button I could not have been ready for what I heard come out of that heaven sent mouth.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
YOU ARE READING
Cigarette Mouth (1)
Poetrywritten over the course of however long i decide, and also probably full of things about my ex girlfriends. have fun because this isn't the last one.
