untitled ode to old flame: april '98

For (redacted), for I know you won't return that call for at least a while.

What strands of desperation make you stop?
What immediate slice across the abdomen turns the blood off?
When do I get to scare you with tales of future with too much coffee and pretending your page is your closest ally.
I hope this is a talisman against our old mutual foe bitterness.
But like someone else Mantra-ized, to climb up the flaming sword is to take this pain and know it's the only thing keeping us awake.