Phone Call

When you drank the last sips
of your bottle of bitter wine
you called me for tips
just after nine.
You were swimming in a pool
of raw depression.
You claimed to be a fool
because of your confession.
You said you wanted to soar,
to be so high,
but then you fell to the floor
and begged to die.
Then you started screaming,
asking me why.
And then you started crying,
still begging to die.
You calmly asked
what you should do
and then added fast
‘I think I’m in love with you.’

Reviews

[Wretched Knight]

Very good! I definitely felt that one!

[xx]

I often have trouble reading a rhyming poem to the finish, simply because many rhyming poems become awkward to read - it's difficult to find comfortable, flowing words all the time that fit into a particular rhyme scheme.

I saw no such trouble in your poem. Raw, realistic, and it rhymes - nothing awkward about it. I'm glad I found you in the new writers' pool - and I'm glad I found this poem along with you.

Keep writing! I look forward to reading more pieces from you, whether poetry or prose.

-Mina