Voicemail

a poem

And I leave poems

For you on your voicemail

Cause somehow pen to ink

On paper

Doesn’t seem to make sense

Of how much my mind

Has bled for you

Since you’ve been gone.

And I leave poems

For you on your voicemail

Cause I hope maybe there’s

A message you’re

Dying to hear

And maybe one of them

Is in the desperation

Of my voice

Every time

I whisper your name.

And I leave poems

For you on your voicemail

Thinking that you’ll save them

And listen to them

On repeat,

Finding some new

Fault in my voice

To cling onto each time —

Like I cling onto you.

I leave poems

For you on your voicemail

Cause maybe my voice conveys

An urgency that written

Letters can’t

And maybe the description

Of my arms around you —

Of your hand in mine —

Of your breath on my neck —

Would somehow make

Those images reality.

I still leave voicemails

for you on your poems —

I mean, I leave poems

For you on your voicemail

Because I still

Get confused as to why

You’re still not here

You’re still not here

You’re still not here

You’re still not here

You’re still not here

You’re still not —

But I need you to be.

And it’s gotten so bad

That with each person I meet —

Every person I find the

Number

Of —

I leave poems

For you on their voicemail —

Because they need to know you

They need to know the affect you

Had on me.

And maybe if I can get

Through to them —

Maybe one day

I can get through to you.

And I’ll leave poems

For you on strangers’ voicemails

In hopes that

they’ll recognize you from the ink

That spilled from my voice

To leave its imprint on their

Minds.

And when they see you,

They’ll send you to me

So after all this time

I’d finally

Get through to you.

And I’d finally get the answer to

The question

I’ve been dying

To ask:

“Did you get my message?”