My phone chimes like bells and euphoria rolls over my body as a number I recognize but haven't seen in months appears.
My heart spins like a drug dependent lab rat spinning circles on his squeaky wheel knowing any minute I'll be getting my fix.
But he left me exposed on a tainted surgical counter when my body could no longer provide the results he craved.

"I wanted to hear your voice..." He voice rains convincingly, consistently like a morphine drip.
I inhale sharply, and wonder do I give him the satisfaction of speaking?

"I miss you," he calls over the static of a 2 am phone call.

"Yeah," I choke. He changed me. "I miss her too."

The phone deadlines.
I (think I'm) hung up on you.