Every Thursday
the phone rings
six thirty. A plastered smile.
We lock eyes through a shattered screen,
but in that 'fatherly' gaze
lacks the affection I crave.
Jokes are made, tosses
directed at my mother again
comments. Insults
simply labelled as banter
yet you don't notice the smile
wavering.
Do you?
Thirty minutes.
The call ends.
Glass splinters fade to black.
Relief flooding the room, though
faint remains of your voice
echo in every picture frame
as the tears well once again.
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 2:04 PM UTC
Every Thursday
the phone rings
six thirty. A plastered smile.
We lock eyes through a shattered screen,
but in that 'fatherly' gaze
lacks the affection I crave.
Jokes are made, tosses
directed at my mother again
comments. Insults
simply labelled as banter
yet you don't notice the smile
wavering.
Do you?
Thirty minutes.
The call ends.
Glass splinters fade to black.
Relief flooding the room, though
faint remains of your voice
echo in every picture frame
as the tears well once again.
first poem, still figuring out how this site works. insight to my family life. sorry to those who relate.
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