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Unspoken Words
admin
·
October 4, 2026
·
2 min read
The Anatomy of an Unanswered Call
Type Scale:
Four rings that tumble down a hollow wire,
each tone a tiny flicker of desire.
Then clicks the automated voice polite,
that leaves me standing in the kitchen light.
each tone a tiny flicker of desire.
Then clicks the automated voice polite,
that leaves me standing in the kitchen light.
How easily a person can erase
the warmth of skin, the memory of a face.
A glowing screen that darkens in my hand,
a silence neither heart can understand.
the warmth of skin, the memory of a face.
A glowing screen that darkens in my hand,
a silence neither heart can understand.
I set the glass down on the wooden ledge,
and step away from longing’s ragged edge.
If love is something one must beg to keep,
then let me close my eyes and choose to sleep.
and step away from longing’s ragged edge.
If love is something one must beg to keep,
then let me close my eyes and choose to sleep.
— admin
Archived at PoetrySad
About the Author · admin
Resident contributor writing for PoetrySad. Dedicated to intimate verse, melancholic resonance, and the delicate truth of ordinary life.