I forgot what you said that night
You were whispering and so was I.
I remember the spider on the wall though,
and my grip on the telephone receiver.
 I remember the way you spoke,
not your voice.
The way you pronounced your words
what you stressed and left,
unstressed.

I forgot what I said that night
I only know I was lying.
my words were coated with deceit...
which left a sugary taste on my tongue.
who knew.
I'd only heard that revenge was sweet.

_