Its raining outside and the sky is a blanket of grey with pigeons blending in.  My insides feel like they are being degraded by the coke, and the music is hurting my ears, but it dulls the pain of my mind.  Its the phone call form last night that plagues today that turns this world into a horrid place. 

He texted me, demanding that I wake up and call him.  So I did, and his voice was honey, but my bee stings hurt too much.  He said he was going to leave me to sleep, I tried to protest.  It went noticed, and he told me to tell him tomorrow of those feelings I did not understand.  I lay there awake, thinking of him.  

Thinking of him laugh at something a girl said contently focused on her eyes, never drifting to below the neckline.  If I were made of the air by his side, and whispered this observation hed wonder its importance, but how many girls are drawn to guys who dont see with judgment. 

Its all futile, because half an hour later Im still awake and hating him for not being there.  Not being there for me to call.  So I call him, wake him from his sleepy cocoon.  Hes still honey, and sounds unsurprised that Id called.  I launch my war, and hes stunted, pinned to the bed miles away.  Ive got him cornered hes staring at my gun, not noticing that its slipping wet from my hands.