"Okay" was the last thing he said before
Hanging up, this wasn't the usual him
I could tell something was wrong, for
He'd never say so in such a plain voice
Just like freshly roasted coffee, he'd always
End the call with something as refreshing and
Sweet as "take care" often in a way as though
He'd hold me accountable if I didn't, but today
He seemed different, far from the enthusiasm
He usually bears in his voice, today
It was more of a silent storm that he tried
To conceal somewhere in the middle
Of our conversation
-Anika
YOU ARE READING
Sweet Suffering
PoetryPreviously known as : Tales of a broken heart "It's often difficult to put into words, the tales of a broken heart." A scattered collection of poems, snippets & musings. If you're looking for a meaning within my words, then you're in the wrong plac...
