Phone Call

No champagne and roses,
No starlight kisses,
Just a good and honest friend
She cared for me
     And I chose to let her in

Her voice was a line
Desperately clung to yet tried to reject
Drowning in the tears I should not shed for them
     the kiss I could not give them

I did not fight against despair
I welcomed the melancholy, the loneliness
My sorrow was my dearest friend,
protecting me from the pain I should have yearned for

Now I weep for the agony I did not enjoy
I raced from it so hard that now I cannot catch it
all that’s left is to endure

She struck me with her mercy
her voice a murmur, half asleep
A strident whisper in the night
     daring me to challenge Hughes’ Dream
     Can it be regained?

Might it not be so bad, to hope?
Do I dare eat Prufrock’s peach?
There are many things I should have been
For most, the time as grown far too dim

I need to be a man I can be proud of
Do I dare to pray it is not too late?

I do not ask her
she offers no opinion

Yet,
her voice echoes with the answer
I hope to find the strength to believe her.