don’t pick up the phone

it was a sunday, and i remember because

the ravens were on at a break in the play,

and thats when i took the opportunity to say

i know you lied.

how? you didn’t know, yet you argued your case

but reality showed through the look on your face

and i said that i would go find a new place

and then, you cried.

but i once did this for you and i once did that,

you listed, as the ravens came back from the mat.

oh were we keeping score? is this tit for tat? if so,

you don’t want to play.

if in one column is memories, movies and gifts,

phone calls and messages, concerts and lifts,

intelligent chats and laughter til we ripped,

it’s all outweighed.

and i’m not even surprised, nor surprisingly, mad

though somehow i am quite surprisingly sad

even still, to let go of the times that we had.

so please, leave me alone.

it is for the best but i can’t get it out of my head

that some day, maybe soon, we’d have probably wed

if i had just listened to you when you said, penny,

don’t pick up the phone.

 

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