Disconnection
I would connect and you would respond,
somehow knowing, tactile instinct,
it was me on the line.
At the dial tone my heart cut beats,
breath suspended, smothered chords
until the sound of your voice.
Words were spoken, silence breached
you would relate of golden things
and closely I would listen.
Magnetised like a child by Christmas tales
or bedtime stories, precious fables,
hooked on every priceless word.
The phone lies still now, dead and lifeless,
static buzzing in a void
of whispering ghosts.
You answer no more and I am broken,
washed up and all alone,
adrift in disconnection.
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