Not there

I reach out for the silver phone again
But you are not there

My hand is lonely in the empty air

I bring it back to my lap

I did not know I would not hear your voice again

Our conversations dead too.

I am glad I forgave you

I wanted you to let go easily

Had not thought the phone was no use to the dear dead ones

I can’t believe my mischievous boy grew old

Took Ill,suffered
Died

Oh can you not come back?

My hand looks delicate like a flower

My ears feel hot

I can’t hear you any more.

You are gone

Why is it hard to believe this?

Why is loss so hard?

I welcome comments and criticism

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