You Call To Say Things...

You call to say things
under the blanket of contentment.
The thoughtless things
that redden tips of ears
and churn the stomach like soured butter.
Words that shatter
against a hardened heart.
Leave clamorous ringing
in the mind,
like bells at suppertime.
Syllables empty and nearly dry
as the bottle
resting against my inner thigh.
The soft sultriness
of a quivering lip.
Provides comfort to restless fingertips.
Tiny shallow breaths
tickle the receiver.
Words like Tsunamis,
rush over to drown,
then leave a numbing silence.
The faint echo of traffic
in the distance
reveals the quiet
fragility of my nature.
The bottle falls.
Translucent moon shadows dance
on the bare wall.
The dull flatline
signaled the end
as I sit alone
in the dim light.


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