Waiting for the phone to ring

I can still feel his lips upon my neck and shoulders.

It's been months since she's seen spring

the days have all grown colder

I could paint the dawn with this memory

but she's still crying in the palor

she waits for sleep but it never comes

so I'm backed into a corner,

He's still wanting his phone to ring

so he feels a little older.

She's left here

looking at his photograph

colonge splashed across my back,

I'm tearing up this photogragh,

her necklace wrapped around my finger.

Sometime in the night I heard the wolves calling,

his scent is left somewhere in the snow

as she dashes in the doorway soaked by rain,

I know he knows it was a one night thing,

his expression written across his face-

guiding me where to go.

Footprints by the river,

Three-piece suits and designer leather,

I thought we'd always be together,

I never dreamed the sky would fall,

she packs her bags because he doesn't call,

she wonders if he tried at all

as he steps into the shower

to wash his neck and shoulders.

I wonder if he'll still smell like me during his lunch hour

as he plays her number in the lotto.