Disconnected

Here we are,

it's come that hour.

That midnight mention

- my sin, your shower.

I dial your number,

the tone runs dead.

I won't leave a message.

I've gone to bed.

My sheets grow colder,

my heart beats stop,

my tongue twists sour

with the taste of teardrop.

I'm waiting for your update,

I'm waiting for your call,

I'm waiting for a reason

to stop my soul withdrawal.

No money in the world,

no pleasure could subside,

that feeling lost in love.

I need you by my side.

God, why wont you text me?

Status me the way?

God, don't you have an email?

Have anything to say?

I need something real,

a cause to persist.

I just want to feel

that you truly exist.

I'm tired of speaking to air.

I need to know your reading.

My pain is plastered to a wall.

I need to know I'm breathing.

I need a solid phone line.

This prayer thing is weak.

Through faith I wait and listen

but I need to hear you speak.

This long distance turbulence

is breaking us apart.

I need to know you're with me;

you're living in my heart.

I need not understanding,

I need not wisdom too,

I need communication.

Something that is true.

This is my last reception;

I'm tuning it all out.

Maybe by this absence

I'll bring my thoughts about.