Curled like an ampersand around a telephone that never rings in time with the words that sing in her ears, She waits again.
Her hands and lips cold-blooded mercenaries that ****** what she canβt quite hold with silence and questions. with ellipses and time.
So she pushes again seeking definition.
But finding the horizon has never been so hard. Her vision so thoroughly blurred. And the sunsets force her closer to a Something she canβt quite believe in.
So she pulls what she knows into herself, rolls into a familiar shape and waits for a phone that has always been ringing, A voice she isnβt ready to hear.