I never thought I'd find myself dialing your number again.
But I guess you were always my favorite brand of poison.
Every line you spoke soaked into my skin. That angelic smile burned it's image in my brain.
Looking back, every line was rehearsed in sin. Every smile stretched wide was in vain.
The worst part wasn't you leaving and your countless returns; it was the emptiness of silence.
When the phone didn't ring anymore.
When your voice no longer spoke of desperation and regret, but rather didn't speak at all.
Haunted by the absence of the closest thing to perfection I ever saw.