Phantom Phone Syndrome

bzz.

When it rings, you fall into being in my pocket,
Your hand on my leg,
Then your voice in my ear.
I can close my eyes, my other ear,
And there you are, vivid as a dream.

Sometimes it doesn’t ring, but I feel it, hear it,
And you’re a ghost,
Brushing against me in the dark,
The phone a strange dead weight in my hand,
My nerves straining for your touch.

Last night I was drowsing on your pillow,
Your sleeping hair just touching my shoulder,
When the ghost called.  It rang twice in my mind,
And I answered by sitting up in the night,
Listening to the rain and your steady breathing.

I’ll call you back tonight.

Reviews

[Lola Nation]

almost a sense of betrayal here... lingering pasts... always seeping in just under that door, or beneath the pillow...