You find the phone in the medicine cabinet.
I find your contacts loose in your pocket.
They all had names of loose, knotted letters.
Names are loose lip rumors that squeak from zipper teeth.
Rumors dangle from your ears like tiny jewel earrings.
Earrings any high school girl would wear at a pep rally.
I feel you are still a teenage girl with the hunger for popularity.
Those names are your appetite, and you hunger to devour each I love you.
I wish our love is enough, but the phone rings again.
You sneak into the back room with it pressed to your ear.
I know you sneak their names further into your pockets.
I leave the cabinet open, so you can hide your contacts in pill bottles.
I try to forget each letter of the names, and hide my tears once again.
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Poetic Trials 