I sit on the end of a telephone saying 

“I don’t trust you.”

While every bone in my body 

Wants to,

and I resist. 

Because I cant seem to see

Where to start disassembling

The walls that

I built

Because I was clever

To hide them well.

And while I search for the stone

That is holding everything

Into place

So I can show you where to 

tear them down.

I sit on the end of a telephone.

Whispering “I don’t trust you,”

To remind myself

before they crumble.