Call one: when will you write this poem? there is a girl somewhere with daddy issues, waiting for you to save her.
Call two: the first time you tied me up I fell in love.
Call three: please, understand that I am not afraid of you. I like the way your nails curve. I like the noises that come from the backest back of your throat, prehistoric as all.
Call four: fuck poetry. stop calling me back.
Call five: I’ve stopped thinking about you. but sometimes my hands remember you, when I am fast asleep, and terrified.
Call six: what was the name of that movie? you didn’t like the main actor, but I liked him just fine.
Call eight: I found some of your hair somewhere. It didn’t make me sad.
Call nine: once I reread your old letters. I would have forgotten you were such an artist, if not for the way your words beat and bled me.”