One Missed Call

Ten digits appeared without a name

the backlight switched on before i turned my head

I counted the numbers, 

and then counted the sounds

so many times I had heard it from the other end of the line

anxiously awaiting relief from your voice

the tone of it, soft around the edges 

at the beginning and end of syllables

that is where I could hear your vulnerability.

my name danced around your tongue, 

caught between shallow breaths.

ten different numbers created a familiar sequence

placed next to each other at random, 

engraved into the back of my thoughts.

I wasn’t sure I would ever see them again, 

and by the time I had they didn’t make sense.

there is an image behind the digits, 

as the screen of my phone turns from black I can see it.

A reminder of the life I live now, 

and the things I have created.

All of those things came before ten digits appeared without a name.

All of them came after I convinced myself that familiarity was safe, 

but it wasn’t always worth it.

Then your number left my view again,

and was quickly disregarded

Put on a back burner that was never to be warmed

with ideas of what could have been 

A message left me with the sweet serenade

of someone that you used to know, 

trying to know who you had been.

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