Ring Ring Ring

you remind me of dresses and puppies and pretentious dinner parties as you tear your hair out and stomp out the door.

you tell me goodbye, burning eyes streaming acid, and find me 20 minutes later, cowering from your fury (that you swear is simply concerned love, but you can apologize to my door - it doesn't appreciate the dent)

you apologize, a single sorry, and list all the ways in which I am wrong and you are right, and your single sorry spontaneously combusts.

ring, ring, ring

you call to tell me of your conviction, of all my wrongs and all your rights, but all I can think of are dresses and puppies and pretentious dinner parties and the dented door, not to mention all the scars you've dealt to my brain, my confidence, my life that you will never see, never hear, never understand.

ring, ring

I suggest you stop calling, because all I want is a sorry that won't spontaneously combust.

ring,

And you can apologize to my door, too.