And it hangs there, what we’re really saying, both of us begging the other to wave that fucking white flag. But then, nothing. We just fall to silent. Our phones pressed against our ears, waiting for the other to talk. But neither of us do so it sits there between us. Loud and telling. Scared and hurt. The juxtaposition of everything about us. Comfortable and terrified. Everything’s old and all of it’s new. Before we used to smother our silences with our bodies. Now we use them to speak all these fucking words we’ll never say. “Want me to hang up?” I ask her eventually. “No,” she answers
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