The soft whirring of the heater
keeps my breathing steady
just long enough
for me to close my eyes
and fight back the tears.
But it's not enough
to reassure me of much,
aside from the fact
that my skin is warm
and I am alive.
For it cannot calm my heart
or quell my fears.
It will not provide answers
to the questions burning
inside of my throat.
Where are you?

The armrest holding my head up
is uncomfortable at best;
it is a nagging reminder
of all that is amiss.
I turn over and back
trying to make it right
but it still hurts.
My gaze is downcast,
fixed upon an object
so prone to destruction
that it's a wonder
I've kept it around.
Double checking myself
brings not relief
but disappointment;
not in you, but in me.

The phone that sits beside me
is endlessly mocking;
I clench it tightly
in a fist of frustration,
willing it to respond.
Not only is it lifeless
but it drains me
of what life is left
within my broken heart.
I catch myself
hoping you're okay;
then I face reality
and admit to myself
that this is the end.
Will you return?
There is no answer.