"dialled" poems
I dealt death today.
I know it’s a part of the job.
I know I’ve seen it too many times to count.
But today,
I felt it.
I left the room long after their family did.
There was no where I could go
To escape their
Roaring grief.
They were long gone.
And I was left with their precious baby.
I curled his arms and legs up
Closed his eyes
Wrapped him up gently.
With love and respect
Here he’ll sleep forever.
And oh,
They are so thankful,
That it was me
That I understood
That I was so careful
That I spent the time with them.
And you’re not supposed to take it with you.
You’re supposed to leave it
When they walk out the door
With one less goodbye.
But I took it with me today.
The way they felt before
The way they felt after
The long quiet goodbyes
The man in a suit on his knees weeping
The mother and son making a cocoon
Sheltering their dying baby.
The solemn face of the woman who plays god.
The green death.
The last breath.
The heaving of the living as he gave his last.
The waiting.
Slower rhythm.
Quieter.
‘He’s gone now’.
I watched the clock
The same way I had
An hour before
Waiting for death.
Soon as I could
I fled out the door
Ran into the street
Tried to outrun it
Instead I ran to you
I dialled your number
With shaking hands
I know I’m not supposed to
But all I wanted was you
Your voice
Ringing out
Thankfully
I wept alone.
Today I dealt death
And I found I am not strong enough
To sustain this
Alone
Or for long.
I found I still consider you my haven
Deep down
But that you are not my haven anymore
Or should be.
I listened to the silence
After the call rang out
And decided
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 6:42 AM UTC
We climbed from bedrock
to Idyllwild the home
of Pines to Palms
and Suicide Rocks
but not for us
only for those
poor tired souls
for whom the world's gone
flat
refusing
the night threw
itself boldly into the fray
of winds which blew
from storm to calm
so this morning we awoke
to a placid knap
slipping on snowy piste
to turn cold snaps
hot
spiced Nepali tea
sipped from ice
nipped cups
I see promise
picks up
from backward leaps
time forward flips
breaking free range igneous
into pan
piped sizzling
congenial song
that carries on the tree line
like spring
water sprung from
creeks to go scurrying off
with wet socks
until pulled up
by old school granite skies
hanging pools out to dry
in sopping blue rinsed sun
ahead any bald rocks
or hairline fractures
are long since dialled in
as baseless fears
knowing this mobile age
can merrily slip like air
through numb fingers
while baseline hands declare
“hold me close to gather”
edelweiss echoes gone
rappelling through time
the route we've chosen's
to be tied to each other's
peaks in the way of sun
and moon
come what may
be it creases in our skin
or crevasses
we'll win the battle to slim line
any overhanging ridges
so I take care to tighten
my girth hitch to top notch
and hold firmly
to both your conviction
and reach
that setting
out to move mountains
we call home
achieves more than
staying home
and calling mountains
so bright
you have me forget
all things too trite
banal office hype
shopworn old hat
mowing lawn weekends
too dishy to be clichéd
you polish off the stereotype
slam the Dior on out of shape
and dull as ditchwater tripe
keeping a victorious secret
or two in the slip knot
too tranquil shade
taking allure to new heights
we'll never drop
down from
tonight
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
Off to the park a picnic yeah
three women a wean
and a man who don't scare
well not too easily...
as long as the swings
don't make him queasily
up the slide ok wee girl
she's gonna fall my toes all curl
nope she seems to have it dialled
little hurricane dynamo child
then the swings
for about12 seconds
three turns on the roundabout
maybe less I reckon
then back to the slide
God I am puffed
hasn't the wee girl had enough?
Ok I grab achicken roll
two bites its in a muddy hole
this picnic is turning out to be
endurance playing for Jeremy
tried the kids swing I got jammed
like wearing steel Y-fronts
my privates were crammed
ok so it was all my choice
I say in a funny high-pitched voice
"Jesus go up" I am told so I go
Only she calls me that now you know
where she got it who can guess
got an idea won't confess
(better than being a skinny Welsh Tw*t)
starting to flag like I smoked a ***
need an emergency sicky bag
go home soon and lie down quick
after picnic and playing I am quite sick
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 7:55 AM UTC
He was coming out hurriedly
While she was about to come in
They met at the glass door he and she
Accidentally
And both froze momentarily
And she startled and both stared
Unattered a second and eventually he
Said I'm sorry
He was taken in by her beauty
And so he struggled for his wallet
Gave his business card she looked she
Said oh really?
And one night when she was lonely
Remembered him she took out his card
A cellphone number she dialled suddenly
Accidentally
Since then they met occasionally
Not at her home and not at his office
At the park at cafes for she said she's
Always busy
Too occupied in a huge company to see
Unawares she's in a different division
Those whom he knew acted anxiously
So strangely
One day he asked will you marry me
Two fine kids later by merit moved his
Office next to the boss next to her he
Wants to be
Accidentally
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
"Is there anybody there?" said the caller,
"Six ten eight oh one two four three nine?"
And his ears attuned to the empty hum
Of the long-forgotten line;
And an LED on the handset
Flashed, for a moment, red,
And he dialled the number a second time:
"Is there anybody there?" he said.
But no one replied to the caller,
No sound but the dialling tone
Came drifting into his waiting ear
As he held that haunted phone;
But only a host of phantom listeners,
Of spectres weak and strange
Stood hearkening to that human voice
That echoed around the exchange;
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
And his heart was afraid and nervous,
With his hand on the final digit
Of that number not in service;
For he suddenly tapped the receiver
And spoke on that line of dread:
"Tell them I called, and no one answered,
That I kept my word!" he said;
Ay, they heard him replace the receiver,
And his mumbled cursing later,
With the usual subdued but enthused delight
Of the switchboard operator.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 6:26 AM UTC
I am a speed-dialled emotion
an ex-employee from hell
my name is [ ]
written in capitals
all over narrow alley walls
where blood traded its lingered beauty
in kind
the wind envies me
for the way I blow into oblivion
the unforgettable truth
and its reason
disguised in a moment
of adorned power
a flightless bird
is flapping its wings out of instinct
this is the apology of a tsunami
on the peaceful shore of a Sunday morning
my trail is a promise
but I will pass
Mar 3, 2010
Mar 3, 2010 at 1:22 PM UTC
Given a moonless sky
there was once a time
we could hold words in the mind
far as the line of horizon.
The problem with pragmatism
(aside from self-loathing)
is that no one sings of it.
Of spring: it is not that the flowers crouch on
with an aperture already dialled to metabolize
a portion of the sun, and die,--
it is not that all of this unfolds as scripture.
We live in a web of connections.
For Hume, the sun might not rise.
The flowers will come.
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 7:38 PM UTC
Punctured, she remains bruised.
Looking left, the back of her hand
She begins, to remember that day.
It began with the box, old shoes
Nestled within, lay the excess meds.
It wasn't planned, she was certain.
Sitting on the bathroom floor, she opens
A cupboard where, the box kept
A thousand magic smarties, pink.
They were sugar coated, laughing
She thought about how, her heart
Her very soul, its sadness
So often wrapped a bow around,
Her hurt & pain, beneath the skin,
The surface, oh such depths of despair.
No one ever knew, the girl behind,
A red ruby lipped smile.
She took the box, a chipped mug
Drinking morning tea, phone quiet
This was 2010, pre iPhone for her
She simply text and dialled, hello.
Without any force, she started to count
One, two, three, as easy as,
This cup of tea beside her thigh,
No thoughts raced, no fixed grounding
Just the addiction to take one more.
And as the pills, rattled,
She began to feel the rattle within.
Handfuls, of the very drug
That was intended, to calm her
In these moments,
And yet,
She was calm, and she doesn't recall
A single tear.
Regular lunch break checks,
Mother and father calling,
A call to a psychiatrist, busy in clinic.
It wasn't a cry, it was to ask,
Why should I stop Jaya?
Mothers maybe know too much
And as quickly as I put,
The phone down, it rings.
By this point I'm sedated, uncompromising and incomprehensible,
I am told I slurred and denied all.
I recall a panicked voice and a mother,
Refusing to put the phone down.
I remember a bang on the front door.
I remember a black Ralph Lauren t'shirt,
My brothers.
And it's all I wore.
Knickers and a t'shirt.
I cowered in a corner of the hall,
Medics and police, and I'm terrified.
A blank search in my brain.
I go into a coma and my only memory is,
Waking in a distant place, plugged up
Machines and monitors beeping
And the soft gentle voice of,
My mother; Rachel!
Her hand so warm,
having held mine all the time,,
I took residence in this,
Hospital
Bed.
I'm alive.
© Sia Jane
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
Good afternoon, she said, it’s me.
I thought I might phone today
because . . .
I was wondering you see
how your voice would sound,
how you might speak to me
(if you would speak to me at all
that is).
It’s probably an intrusion,
but I’m curious to know if
what you write is how you are,
and how you are . . . she paused,
then said, I meant to say . . .
but she didn't.
She’d not prepared herself
for silence at the other end.
The most wonderful
of December days,
the distant cliffs had glowed
as afternoon had slowly
wound down into dusk.
The tide had turned,
and turning itself about,
was going out.
Picking up her mobile phone
from an ever-cluttered table
(where she watched the sea
and sometimes wrote)
now spurred by the moment
said aloud - I can. I shall.
Oh and this imagining
they were out with the dogs
on the sand, these two writers
talking seamlessly about this
writing life, their poetry please.
Are you there? , she said, knowing,
though his number dialled,
she hadn’t really placed the call.
A rehearsal, she told herself firmly,
that was only a rehearsal after all.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 3:06 PM UTC
'The number you have dialled is engaged.'
Madam, I don't want to marry you.
This is the tenth time you refused me.
Perhaps it's an official secret
a phone in an empty locked room
or in a government bomb shelter.
I'd better check the website again.
Premium bonds or powerful bombs?
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 6:38 AM UTC
I knew I had to do it
I knew I had to call her
And ask her out.
But I was nervous
And so
To calm myself down
And buld myself up
I went to the fridge
And got myself a beer.
I'm not usually a big drinker
But I gulped it down
Quickly
And it did the trick.
Suddenly
I felt as if I could do anything
And so I picked up the phone
And dialled.
It rang
She answered
And then
My words
All the ones I'd wanted to say
For so long
Just tumbled out.
I'd done it!
I'd actually, finally done it!
But
...She said no.
I'm still not sure why.
Was it my eagerness?
Was it my frankness?
Or,
Could it possibly have been
My hiccups?
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC
He picked up the phone
pressed the small green button
scrolled through the list of recently dialled numbers
stopped at her name
and called her.
“I just spoke to her.”
“And?...”
“And… And I told her –
about you and me
about where and when and how we met.
I couldn’t not tell her
any more.”
There was a pause.
And in the pause he said (in his mind)
And I told her so much more
I told her more than I can tell you
I told her
I love you
with every bone, sinew and muscle every cell I have.
I told her there were no words anymore
to describe what I feel
to describe how I feel
about you
I told her
all the good words were gone
taken and used
by better poets than me.
I told her
who, and what, and why
you are to me.
I told her.
Everything.
The pause was reaching its end.
“Well...” he said,
“what do you think?”
“I think
you should have talked
to me first…”
Now
which conversation do you think
was most important?
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:16 AM UTC
He would think of her
and be tempted,
tempted to pick up the mobile
from his ungovernable desk.
Navigating the backlit screens
he would find her name
and press to see her photo
that dialled the number,
and then that wait
for the ringing tone, that
wait while her phone rang
. . . and with a connection
she would say Hello you
And he’d know from
her voice if the time was
right or wrong;
she was busy,
preoccupied or
(and always wonderful
this) happy to hear him . . .
. . . and he would falter.
He really had nothing
to say he could say, so
much to say that he couldn’t,
and so he would witter:
*chatter or babble pointlessly
or at unnecessary length.*
So the dictionary said.
Such a sad business this.
Better by far to stick
to a letter than witter,
than witter, than witter.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
july 19 11:43 PM
my heart hurts again tonight.
i cant help but feel stupid on nights like these. i feel clingy and annoying, everything he's so grateful i'm not. when i looked at the sky on my walk home i was engulfed in colours and shapes reminding me how much the world has to offer me. the first thing i thought to do was share this with him and when his phone went to voicemail without even ringing the waves were suddenly taunting. the wind as if it was just waiting to push me off the edge. i reminded myself to appreciate my own skies sometimes and to let him do the same yet somehow i had already dialled that familiar number. someone else picked up the phone and i begged the wind and the waves to welcome me. he didnt see my calls. i shouldnt have called. i shouldnt get too attached and i shouldnt let myself fall. falling only leads to crashing, a sound so familiar to the cavity in my chest as he distractedly told me he couldnt see the sky. im so selfish. im everything he hates wrapped into a package that he's convinced himself he loves. "cloud 9's never felt more like home" and ive never felt more alone. a sunset that reminded me of so many beginnings began to remind me of nothing but an end. the clouds drifted together and the stars spelled out "closed". one by one their lights burned holes and i became the ocean as salt water replaced air and i remember how to drown. i do it so well now. my thoughts are beginning to feel like quicksand, the more i struggle the more i sink and suddenly it is just me and the pit and im the only one doing any falling.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
"The number you have dialled
Is no longer in service."
How those words
Rung in my head
When you had left;
It hurt
How it lingered
On my tongue,
The tongue that once knew
Your name; so familiar
You were that number
And you had disappeared
Appeared once in my life
To leave and never come back
You were like a soul
Wandering,
Searching,
Losing her way
You thought that
You found your light --
The light that you needed--
In me
How foolish was I?
To believe that we --
In the hopes of forever --
were something permanent
"The number you have dialled"
Those words that came from my mouth
"Is no longer in service"
Are words that are, now, out of my reach
Never to return;
Never to reappear;
Never to exist
Not once more.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"How are you?" she had asked. I answered her with the words that lingered in my mind. Because, just like you, I was no longer in reach
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
I did a little dance, when the postman came.
He handed me a letter, addressed with my name.
I was delighted and excited to receive such a gift.
I hurriedly opened it and then saw this:
The letter began with “how do you do?”
I wanted to reply “very well, thank you”
No one was there to hear my reply.
I then continued reading, with a little sigh.
We would like to offer you for the bargain sum of thirty pounds.
The use of our employee to fix your computer, this offer to me was very sound.
The letter stated a number to ring, have your payment card handy when you begin dialling.
We’ll sort it out, just need the long number, sort code and three numbers from the back.
At this point I didn’t know that I would be hacked.
It sounded very easy, I couldn’t go wrong, and I began to sing a little song.
I dialled the number and got straight through, they said “welcome, let’s help you”
“Start Up your Computer, let’s see what we can do”
• Step 1“enter your password”
• Step 2 “say it out loud so it can be heard”
I did exactly as the operator said
I repeated the password as it came into my head
I heard some hearty laughter in my ear
I continued with stealth and still had no fear
Next the operator said “go to your browser and enter these letters”, which I noticed spelt out "L O S E R”
I asked the operator what he meant but he didn’t reply
I stayed on the phone for a little while longer, still no reply
I noticed there was no noise, chatter or laughter anymore
Then realised what had happened and fell to the floor.
I was still on the floor sobbing when my daughter came home
She called my bank via her telephone
She explained what happened and how I’d been hacked
I’m sat here waiting for the Bank to get back.
The moral of the story is throw these types of letters in the bin
Don’t be weak, don’t give in
Keep your password in your head
Or to be frank, you will end up with no money in your bank.
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
You never told me your name
yet your smile said it all
you signed me your number
gestured a phone for me to call
I look around for pen and paper
I find neither anywhere
locked in memory, loud and clear
in my head I stored you there
But by the time I made it home
my sharpness wasn’t as it were
within the charging of my phone
the numbers began to blur
I rang the wrong number
and dialled a different voice
just another unfamiliar stranger
I hung up, I had no choice
I tried so hard to remember
combining captures of what you said
piecing a puzzle for a clue
picturing it all in my head
how the stars had failed me
how in love I am cursed
the more I tried to remember
the more I made it worse
and now you’re probably wondering
why I never did call
you have no idea how I’m dying
my memory, your smile and all
Jul 25, 2021
Jul 25, 2021 at 8:01 AM UTC
it was a saturday night when i promised myself never to fall again because i knew it would only leave me scathed to the bone and lost in the desolated world that i had unnecessarily created in the past. i had come to the realisation that there was an inevitable slough of despond, waiting to pull me mercilessly into the black hole that i knew held a despicable love that i would refuse to ignore if i did not steer clear. though, steering clear was never my forte. instead, diving idiotically into cold waters without caution was where my roots stayed, in love with the fray of things. lost in my welter of thoughts, my little pandemonium, i dreamt of you and slowly tried to fathom how we ended. was it the loss of attraction, transient chemistry or the indubitable end that had already been set in stone? because all my life, i had tried so desperately to search for nonexistent formulas for why things ended, only to accept the fact that every thing was made to be ephemeral. stop, stop, just stop! my mind never failed to repeat, yet my heart failed to comply; my stream of consciousness always led back to you. i felt alone, pathetic, mawkish even, as i dialled your number with the dignity i no longer possessed. with each ring, i tried to stop the shivers down my spine that felt like a terrible ague, knowing that you had already given up on me, on us, and wanted nothing to do with me. you were obdurate on your decision, happy to move on.
but as for me? i remain that hideous book you indifferently hide on your shelf, in the shadows of your newfound lover.
(( yet, even now, that saturday night repeats itself every single day, the vicious cycle of an ancient spiel that i cannot seem to let go, because the thought of you coming back still remains, engrained into whatever pieces of my heart i have left. ))
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
Her eyes sometimes looked red as sunset
Trying to hide the tears of late night fight
Caught between the walls of loving self or him
Alone is an enemy, melting down with whim
Should I say, yesterday, the moon was not full
He dialled her aroused and feeling the weak pull
At first, they danced in joy and spoke like butterflies
But the fight broke out when the disagreements were high
Oh the cacophony! that broke out in the silent sky
Their throats gave up and the air became dry
A minute before it was raining with abuse and curse
Pillows thrown at the stone deaf floor to make it worse
Don't you remember the warmth of the Redding rose?
You plucked out from my palm resting on my knee bent low
And the taste of the wine sipped by your lips behind your breath
Your deep rooted yes to my first love confess
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 5:55 AM UTC
I'm here in Brisbane city
There are people passing by
I'm staring at the ceiling
I'm getting high on the drugs
Need another cigarette
to calm my nerves
The girls are putting on a show
here in Brisbane city
silhouettes of innocence
portrayed in plays on Broadway
there is so much left for me to say
These dead-end streets
are leading nowhere
Familiar faces in far-off places
My imagination
keeps on creating situations
that's no good for me
I'm supposed to be carefree
But lately, I haven't felt the same
as I used to be.
I want to create a memory
here is Brisbane city
I dialled your number
into my phone
I know you've been hanging on my call
you're a girl with attitude
There are so many things
I want to do with you
here in Brisbane city
Nothing comes easy
I'm learning to survive
with every minute I wait
and every breath I take
I know there's a better way
These dead-end streets
are leading nowhere
Familiar faces in far-off places
My imagination
keeps on creating situations
that's no good for me
I'm supposed to be carefree
But lately, I haven't felt the same
as I used to be.
I want to bear the mark of you
You can see the part of me
hidden under my tattoos
it ain't a pretty sight
when I breakdown (alright)
I didn't want you to see me cry
here in Brisbane city
There are so many things in this world
You've learned a million signs
about reading between the lines
and every time I looked into her eyes
I didn't think to see the signs
that you needed me in your life (alright)
These dead-end streets
are leading nowhere
Familiar faces in far-off places
My imagination
keeps on creating situations
that's no good for me
I'm supposed to be carefree
But lately, I haven't felt the same
as I used to be.
Now I'm sitting in an empty house
in Brisbane city
And I know where I went wrong
But I can't stand this feeling
of being alone (alone)
I can't stand this feeling
of being alone
And I know where I went wrong
But I'm sick of being alone
And I won't move on
You shouldn't leave me on my own
here in Brisbane city
Cakk you up to come around
so I'm not alone in this empty house
in Brisbane city
These dead-end streets
are leading nowhere
Familiar faces in far-off places
My imagination
keeps on creating situations
that's no good for me
I'm supposed to be carefree
But lately, I haven't felt the same
as I used to be.
The spotlight comes on
As I start singing into this microphone
The crowd starts to go wild
I'm drunk
Here in Brisbane city
and girl your wrong for all the right reasons
nobody has to be alone tonight
Because I need you all in my life
here in Brisbane city
Everyone starts singing along with me
here in Brisbane city
silhouettes of innocence
portrayed in plays on Broadway
there is nothing left for me to say
In Brisbane city
Here in Brisbane city
©2018 Written By Benji James
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 5:19 AM UTC
I dialled your number.
I sent some messages.
Response held-up in
Vehicular traffic of
silence.
Transmitting voidness in the
Midst of a dead silence from
A dead telephone line.
A loud silence responded,
Diverting answers into
The vortex of emptiness.
Clock of silence lightly enstopped
Beacons of response.
When l dialled your line,
When l sent some
messages,
Voiceless echoes permeated
Membrane of hindrance,
Waging wars of friction.
But l dialled your number.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 4:54 PM UTC
one day
it will be easier for you to fall asleep
but tonight
its three fifty eight and you are wide awake
even though your eyes are washed with tears
and your heart is numb from pain
one day
you will see the light at the end of the tunnel
at the end of the tunnel
but tonight
you are freefallng
p l u n g i n g
and you're scared because
you can't see your outstretched fingers
and there is nothing to hold on to
one day
you will no longer need to stitch yourself together
as you watch yourself fall apart by the seams
but tonight
you are in tears (again)
and no one is here
to wipe them away
because the numbers you dialled
sent you to voicemail
and maybe
one day
you will be happy again
but its been at least nine months
and the clean slits on your left fist is barely visible
you are at least nine months clean
but you are not okay
you have not been okay
and you're scared shitless because
there are some things that love cannot fix
and this happens to be one of them
but strength, cannot be measured in a protractor
because you are not just a page in my mathematics textbook
hidden in a mess of my room
and perhaps,
you are weak in the strongest sense
because you still care for the ones that
drove the knife against your skin
just as you are strong in the weakest sense
because its four in the morning and no one has returned your call
and you can't seem to stop your angry tears
but you don't reach for the knife
or for the bleach at the kitchen counter
or for the alcohol
and one day,
the pain you carved unto your arms
will one day adorn your skies like constellations because the stars will guide you home
even though its not tonight
or twenty nights from now
or twenty years from now
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
My mobile rang late in the night
Your number flashed across my phone
For a second I was in a daze
I hoped you felt alone
I wanted you to need me
I was hoping you would say
That you'd been -Thinking of me
And the thoughts would'nt go away
But you rang me for a reason
You wanted some advice
You didn't ring
Me once that night
In fact you rang me twice
But the reason you dialled my number
Was because you were in pain
So I told you what you had to do
Then you rang me back again?!
Never rang- because you missed me
Didn't ring me -just to say
Well anything about me or you ?
Instead you left me in dismay!
So now I finally realise
The feelings that I've got
(May mean everything to me ?)
(But to you) certainly not!!!
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC
(Song title from “Wicked” by Stephen Schwartz)
I looked at him from across the room,
His eyes smiled,
A spark of tenderness hiding the gloom,
Number dialled.
Never felt such a feeling as this,
Scared by my mind,
What is this feeling of utter bliss?
True hearts are blind.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:05 AM UTC
she rang me. did not leave a message.
later,
i dialled 1471 and rang her back, there
may be a charge for this.
i did not leave a message.
at 6pm she rang and left a message.
i was washing my feet. do you think
that there is a meaning to life?
sbm.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC