a poem

I don't love you anymore...

The phone rings and out of a sound sleep I start,
knowing, as I mechanically reach for the phone that it is you.
I used to call it premonition,
now it is more like a warning signal.
You are disappointed that I'm not surprised,
my coldness stuns you.

As always, you speak of old times,
as if you didn't know why they're gone,
as if you weren't the one who walked away.
Your words are soft, low, just right,
only this time,
(now it is your turn to be surprised)
I'm not listening.

My voice is tired,
My head is aching
it's four in the morning,
...and I don't love you anymore...