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Feb 24
It's suffocating.
The sheer concept
of time passing by
feels almost like
a soul to squeeze
caged within my chest.
The silence resonating
within the aether
is deafening.
It tastes like defeat.
I can feel it
just on the tip of my tongue
ready to spill.
My lips are sealed
yet my soul is bare
writhing in agony
the constant question of
is the line busy
will you call out
into the hollow void
the warmth of your voice
entering the right atrium
echoing impatiently
until the oceans sigh
and I breathe in again
reaching new depths.
I feel it in my fingertips
a phantom memory
resurfacing as I trace
images and symbols
something so strange
yet so familiar
a gleam of light
in my line of vision.
There is no answer
you have gone
eight minutes ago
That feeling you experience
when you see your message has been read
without a response.
Written by
Ronnie  19/F/UK
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