GHOST PHONE

there was you:

rode past, rode back, mid sentence, i ate my words.

three months of silence unveiled just by you stopping by.

on the porch. five minutes too soon to eat the tart warming in the oven

and infinity minutes

waiting for you to call me back.

and you: 

you had to have seen someone tonight.

all golden headed and fragile, crushing egg shell egos

potentially not even knowing 

your own strength.

but i don't resent you,

it's just that it's quarter to ten, and maybe i didn't know what i was getting into.

you can't win when you're being careful-- 

long thought processes/laborious answers.

you can't win when you're going breakneck neither-- 

eyes shut tight/reckless decisions.

and me:

i'm still here.

i'm still going to be here in may, june, july. august smells like leaving

sort of dusty and brand new at the same time.

going steady side to side;

cracking chicken bones to suck the marrow.

i just sit close to the window

because when i  hear the sounds of small tinny voices

i always hope it's you,

coming over to see me.

and when i pretend i hear footsteps coming up the stairs,

i always look up, breath held short. heart strings tied in bows.