I figure out, Finally
not to call her.
Writing myself notes to hang near ‘phones
and I’m good
but then
of course she calls me…
I try for polite
distance, even.
She notices
asks what’s up
and I can’t
don’t want to tell
feeling my resolve melt
insides wearied again
I think
few more months of this
Sartre was wrong
Hell isn’t others
It’s being me
At the end of this shit.
Perversity of course is that I call her
and she does the distance stuff
and I’m glad
and I’m not alone
and this is finally over
there’s no remorse
relief only at the end of each ‘phone.

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