I Almost Called You

I almost called you last night.

I picked up the phone, my finger hovering above your name.

I was going to tell you something funny,

I don’t remember what now,

Just a small accident.

I could’ve texted, but I wanted to hear your voice. 

But then I remembered. 

The anger, the shouts, the tears.

A stray tear rolls down my cheek as it all comes back. 

I almost called you last night.

I replayed the night instead. 

How you glared at me—

You’d never glared before

—and you said you didn’t want to see me again.

I said that was fine, and I stormed out, slamming the door.

I collapsed in my car, tears already falling.

I can imagine you now, with your head in your hands,

thinking. 

Or maybe you're not.

Maybe you aren’t hurting like I am. 

Maybe you're out laughing with someone else.

I almost called you last night.

But I didn’t.