I got away with it

I had a phone call yesterday
She used warm words to tell me I got away with it
Punctuating the conversation with condescention
Stony judgement reverberated in her pauses.
It shouldn’t sting, she doesn’t know me.
Maybe someone she loved took their own life
She could have had some bad news
Or perhaps she hasn’t had an orgasm in a while.
I hand out cheap excuses
I invent some amusing or sorry story to make her palatable.
But it still stings
Because she doesn’t know me.
And if she asked
I would tell her.
It’s because he got away with it.


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