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The Last Call

She wilts over the phone
absent form here.
I mean not to pry on her
private grief
but linger longer
than I should.
I watch her body quaver
as words
choke soundlessly within
glass walls.
I want to tell her
I have been there.
Like her diminished by pain.
my insides hollowed out,
gone about my day like a
shell without a soul.
But life returns in the end.
It gives back more
than it takes.
I walk on, wondering
about the rest of her day,
about how she will soldier on
like nothing happened.
Had I not seen her
when I had,
I would not have known
how she had died
just a little bit.
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Comments

Sideways Chica said…
So toucning...sad...and beautiful are your words.

Ciao.
5:03 PM
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