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Parker Louis Jan 2015
We talked on the phone because she hated to text
Giving me a hint of what comes next
My heart used to be empty and as hard and black as coal
but she set it on fire and now it feels full
Your heart is broken while mine is whole
So let's put them together and only be half broken
So we can be the same heart but in different skin
You make my weeks eventful
Instead of my days of seven dull
We compliment each other, I push you pull
I compliment you to bring joy
You'd compliment me but you're too coy
I run for our future while you run from your past
Good thing we're fast
And not to put you on blast,
but,
let's end get out of this rut
it's monotonous
so let's make this concept official, us
3/14/2013. I think I wrote this when I could only talk to some one through letters because they were grounded all of March and we talked a little bit of talking over the phone instead but we never did talk on the phone.
Liv Jan 2015
Late night calls either make you or break you
There are the ones that are so sweet, so intimate that you never want them to end and they leave you dizzy on happiness and contentment
The others break your heart, tear you to pieces, and leave you needing comfort, reconciliation, and a reason for hope
You never know which one you're going to get when you pick up that phone
Sometimes you may know and you're totally wrong
Sometimes you may know and you're  totally right
can't get out of my head
the way your voice sounds
when you're biting back
a shy smile.
trying to articulate my thoughts
ruby stains Jan 2015
happy new year-
may your days be
long-lasting and
never-ending
. }haha, get it? you'll never ******* s l e//e p. you'll lie awake every ;night, bottle of scotch and a phone bill that's l  o n , g overdue (you only got away with it so long 'cause you've been sleeping with your network *service provider) in your palms and wish you were a <child< again.

*new year, new (me)*'
chúc mừng năm mới : happy mew year in vietnamese form
Robert Ullrich Dec 2014
picking up the phone and dialing your number from memory
tapping on the beaming LED screen in my blackened and frigid room
it sends me into a lycanthropic frenzy
I shed the skin of a plagued, maddened hermit and
mutate into a gregarious, fluttery seraphim
when your “hello” melts through the receiver to greet me
it makes Annie Clark sound like a rattled wasp nest
when I pace around my room, telling you about my day
I feel like I’m weaving adventures together just to feel your warmth
through the phone pressed against my oily cheek
the clock whirlpools helplessly trying to figure out the time
as if it had got caught up in our banter and forgot about its job
but even if the clock can’t set the time straight, the sun does
when it creeps its ugly head above the horizon, I hear a mumble
then a quiet “go to bed” and a “goodnight”
and I shrivel back into the saddened lunatic I once was
marie w Dec 2014
I'M STARING AT MY PHONE WITH
HAPPINESS GLISTENING IN MY
EYES JUST BECAUSE YOU
DECIDED TO TALK TO ME
m.w.
A rumble of laughter not from an LOL in an SMS
but a sound from a breathless child
running in a field
not scrolling through a feed

two friends sharing secrets
in a hide out only known by two
not hiding behind a barricade
clear yet mystifies the truth

I see you smiling in front of me
As you share old stories
And dreams of what’s to come
I don’t face a pixelated picture
As I try to communicate
Face to face?
Or face to screen
Or share winky faces
As you tease me
while sitting in a room two doors down

What happened to the times when
We were connected by the strokes of the words on paper
Or the moments captured by film
And not destroyed by a single glitch of a cellular phone

There’s a ring to my name as you call
A melody in your voice
But now
since when have IM ever been better than calling a name
with your voice
we know people more by the click of a finger
than a stroke of a hand
and from 140 words
in an app
expected to chirp our secrets like songs of birds
sung to everyone

We see connection
As the strength of the wifi at the corner of our screens
Dreams are shared with every retweet and reblog
Shared to strangers
Who care about you?
Or care about the amount of followers or likes you get
Of a picture you do not own
Of an experience you have never done
Or maybe yet to do

life is not as beautiful through a screen
it is not about those minutes you spend
clicking that play button
you cannot fast forward or rewind the wasted time
sitting and waiting
as the video loads
just so
YOU
Can live their life

I sit in front of a camp fire
Hearing laughters from every side
Smiles brightening in the dark
What happened to these nights out?
the fun nights where the stars and moon were the only light source
and not the screen of the 3G phone
or when beauty was only experienced and not captured
Skip Ramsey Dec 2014
The phone was dead.
My heartbeat slowed.
She was no more.
That wasn't a doubt.
The was only one question.
Was she ever?
The phone was dead.
This was the result of a challenge from Just Melz. Based on Sean Critchfield's seventh book, seventh page, seventh line challenge.
Abbi Nov 2014
1:00 am
My phone buzzes
Your name appears on the screen
I tell myself
You do not really
Miss me
You've drowned
Your sorrows
Into acohol
An you're drunk  
You say you
Miss me
You want me
Your drunken words
Roll off your tongue
And into my heart
As if It has stopped beating
I cannot help
But to believe this
I have missed you
Ever since that night
With the yelling and screaming
It was over
I cannot help but to
Say I miss you too
And then
Those two words
I've been dawning to hear
Come through the phone
"I'm sorry"
svdgrl Nov 2014
Gave a call.
Rang twice.
Mailbox full.
Gave another.
Rang five times.
Lady's voice.
Unavailable.
Shower time.
Maybe after?
Brooding.
Longing.
Wet.
Wrapped in towel.
Look at phone.
No missed calls.
Typical.
No surprise.
Forget the phone.
Forget the caller.
Return to life.
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