e.

the phone rings

the phone rings,
breaking the serenity of the night,
ripping the silence to shreds with its shrill call,
no one answers it.

when the phone rings my body turns to ice,
the tears don't fall like rapids anymore,
but they fall like a gentle storm,
indicating that something more severe is brewing.

i wait for the phone to die,
i wait for the call to pass so I can forget as best as I can,
that phone only brings bad news,
that phone is an bad omen in disguise.

when the phone rings no one answers,
nobody wants to know whose on the other line,
whose died, whose injured, whose in trouble,
so we hide as best we can under a blanket of silence.

silence resumes its command over us,
i reach to hear the message left behind,
my hand is swatted away by Fear,
i nurse the bruise and strain my ears as the tape plays.

"two new messages"
"i'm so sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news..."
i do not hear the rest.

***

I'm not quite sure how this one turned out, I kind of wrote it as a spur of the moment thing. If you didn't quite follow the plot of it don't worry, it's up for interpretation. Hopefully the next few poems will be slightly more developed and detailed! Thank you for all the feedback so far, it's been really helpful.

e.