It’s almost too predictable how quickly we start at it again. It always begins with what ifs and maybes. I let my defense down for a second in hopes it draws us closer again. What a fool I’ll always be with you. You mouth words of judgement into the phone pressed against my hot cheek. I fire back with the cruelest of letters pieced together to get the deepest dig. You say, “I wonder what you’d look like after 5 years in prison.” My lips can’t help but coldly mutter, “Better than you.”
We’d throw the hate around each other but dance around it enough to end the night entangled again in a heated passion. We trade off being the enabler and addict. Your love has only ever been a drug. It knows no integrity, honesty or warmth. It leaves me cold and empty.
We hang up the phone and I begin hitting my steering wheel not believing I let you affect me again. I scream out loud and curse your name. I find a way to take a deep breath in and realize the anger is for me. I let me do it again. When will it be enough to know better?