Cheap Mercy

The text came through, a pale blue light,

asking for a favor, late in the night.

Like all the past, it just erased,

no hint of trouble, no time misplaced.

I crumpled up a thought, like an old receipt,

for something I paid for, bitter and sweet.

I let it go, too quickly, too fast,

a debt uncollected, not built to last.

Now the casual ask, it feels like a sting,

the cost of that easy, forgiving thing.

My mercy was cheap, and they knew it, I guess,

leaving me with this hollow, familiar mess.