Heartbroken. Here's my fuck you. Hope you like it. :)

Voicemail

Your pretty name
saved forever on distant
harddrives speaks to me
when you don’t feel like
answering.

Don’t give up. You’ll get through
eventually.

But I can’t keep blowing
breath into a corpse – dead lines
that whisper over
wire but never
find their way to your ear.
All your poetry
is saved for yourself and him.

This is all surface, and
speaks volumes about tension.
Confess. I was a pretty distraction,
a fast burning firework,
and I’d leave my lips
after the beep,
but you’d never kiss them
or call back.
2/7/05