Phone

I become another woman
when your voice hits my
ears, and it's not the one
you know and love, but
another creature altogether.
My words become sharp
and my throat lends me
no sweetness, and my tone
only savours of anger and
hurt, and self-defence. I
hear her talking for me,
when inside I want to show
you that I'm still here, still
that same girl, still gentle
and kind, and a little more
understanding than I
probably should be, but
can't get it out. All that
leaves my lips are the
songs of the wounds that
sit in the pit of my soul,
the promises you made
that you so casually broke,
and the frustration I have
with myself for thinking
that you were different.

Because right now,
you're acting just the same.