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“Not to be macabre, but…”
I’m tired and unfinished,
and I noticed,
that when I thought of calling you,
to kill time,
I couldn’t.
Because, you are dead.
Then I thought of someone else,
the same someone I always think of when I want to talk to you and I can’t.
You know, the person I ultimately end up trying to call,
when you aren’t available.
But, that person, is also now dead.
I make calls that go to voicemails that are never answered.
Living and dead.
Screened, and unattended.
Voicemail box set up, but forever unclaimed.
Kind of wish that I had picked up more often,
now that I come to think of it.
It’s funny how life appears busy,
until it isn’t.
It’s a little known fact,
that prayers now go directly to voicemail.
Call. Listen to her voice, cry. Call again. And again. Torture. Again.
I still post comments on dead friends Facebook pages. Those pages are referred to as cobwebs. Is that weird? Maybe.
Therapeutic
Hello,
Welcome to ProCrassTheNation.com! This is the commonplace where you will find my writing, my poetry, my thoughts, and all the things that swirl around my creative sphere. I invite you to peruse the site to your heart’s content. I promise there is a bit of something here for everyone. I appreciate your time and look forward to your repeated visits where you will always find something new.
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