This One Doesn’t end

The phone call is short

Audible snippets of words

Little scissors cutting at the cord

Or cable or radio waves.

It sounds like an argument

It continues on

Then is cut off with a quick


The phone clicks shut

Stuffed into a lonely pocket

A home for the thing

The woman stares through the wall

Wondering if she should have said

I love you

If the argument was worth it

If it all really matters

She touches her chest and feels

Her heart beat

Why is it so fickle

But feels so big?

Why is the silence so loud

And our mouths so sharp?

She thinks about hitting redial

She thinks

What if this is the last time we speak?

She thinks these things

And yet

The phone remains in her pocket

Such an odd little thing

Spreading love or spreading lies

Much like our own mouths

Except with a wider range

Of thought

She lets out a deep breath

She hadn’t realized

She’d been holding

And the moment passes

And the phone remains in the

Lonely pocket

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