Jay Mortimer's poem is about the fear of getting close to people, and what happens when that fear comes true. The speaker begins by saying strangers aren't the danger; knowing someone's name is. Once a person becomes familiar, losing them hurts, so the speaker imagines hiding from connection altogether. Then comes a bleak image of a phone call where someone coldly announces they've "chosen a new path," leaving without a care.
Love and trust are compared to Russian roulette and a bullet ready to be fired. Everyone, the speaker says, risks being "eighty-sixed," meaning thrown out or cut off. Still, the poem briefly argues that risk is the only way to keep your heart beating. That hope collapses in the final lines: "that is what i once believed." The speaker now addresses someone directly who has rejected them, and the ending sounds defeated.
The mood is anxious, then bitter and sad. The broken line breaks and scattered spacing, especially around "fall," make the speaker's unsteadiness visible on the page.