
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?”