a memoir of sorts.

I deleted your number today.

My face was hot with sweat, but the air outside was cold.

Earlier my family went to church to pray.

I stayed home, hoping to release this ache of old.

Your number is gone, but the scars you left will stay.

This fear should dissipate, or so i am told.

I went to bed earlier, but awoke afraid.

My strength has limits, i'm not always this bold.

I took you to an event once, i eagerly paid.  

Escaping early, we went outside (even though it was cold).

I laughed, hoping to cover the mistakes I had made.

My violet dress was satin, different from my usual mold.

I received your letter while at work, in the midst of my day.

I cried over you, not realizing it was my dignity that had been sold.

I took a pill, or several, and then in my bed I laid. 

I called you, hung up confused. Your heart was cold.

My phone is empty now, why did i keep those numbers anyway?

i think i've given up.  take my cards.   i finally fold.

maybe if i find someone new, the wounds will fade.

a smoke outside might aid, but it is too cold.