A Promise Alone

You promised me a night but spent it in the telephone whispers of the idiot you could not confess your love for. You promised me a day but slept through the sun and thought nothing of us actually together. I sit thinking it best to be alone in the fuck-ups of my own unfulfilled promises. My hurt is my own. I too am capable of closing curtains and listening idly. I can - as one - jump into the so deep where the fish have lights to see that there really isn't anything there goddamit. 

So who the fuck are you? 

I'll hurt myself through a promise of my own accord with a cut rate light to show in the deep, in the so so deep where a night and day mean fuck-all to the other toothy, hungry crashers in this inkiest of inks oblivion.