My Poor Atempt at a Sonnet

Silly Games

I never quite understood the way
you bit your lip while smoking your cigarettes,
or how your loving tongue would play
on each and every last of my regrets.
I often sat alone and wept on nights
your outline traced our blankets and sheets
while fresh in my mind were our fights,
your gorgeous smile through my painful defeats.
She called again last week. I would have sworn
her voice whispered your name before the click
of the dial tone leapt at my ear. My scorn
you ignored while you thought you were slick.
Women may pretend, but always know the truth.
While men may play games, actions lie as proof.