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Oct 2020
One call,
I need to last one call without her.
One call without her screaming,
Incessant pleading,
That I’m better by myself.
I bury her deep, distracting her with nonsense about how
They probably won’t pick up anyway,
It won’t work anyway,
It’s hopeless anyway,
While dialing each number as fast as I can,
Before she comprehends what each number means
Each digit like a deep breath I couldn’t take before,
As I countdown the seconds until my freedom.
She looms closer and closer to the surface in the space between each dialing tone,
Itching at my fingertips to end the call once and for all.
When a voice replaces the silence,
She freezes,
Out of reasons to continue.
The voice on the other end cannot hear my triumphant smile,
only my stutter, as I begin to speak,
Every syllable another benchmark towards victory.

When I hang up the phone, it is not because she told me so.
It is because I won the battle I fought for so long.
Penguin Poems
Written by
Penguin Poems  18/F/United States
(18/F/United States)   
61
     --- and Imran Islam
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