Feeling bereft

Isn't an odd thing, an entirely new thing, or disorienting

At all.

But my head is spinning and my guts are churning

And all

Because I cannot call you. My fingertips are stuck on the first few numbers

And the key

For the padlocked zip on my mouth...

I threw it away, out in the trash.

Along with all the common sense and hope for us I had.