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arian Nov 2018
hey
how are you?
i want to say
that i'm sorry.
i know that
me telling you
that i'm sorry
wouldn't change anything.
but i haven't heard from you
since the last time we talked,
which was 2 months ago.
there were a lot of things
that reminded me of you.
i wanted to tell you right away,
but i knew i would just bother you.
i miss you.
i'm sorry.
please call me back.
please.
Jasmine Somers Jun 2016
One day, you are going to love someone
Who will never love you back.
You are going to drown in their empty promises
Of what is to come and
Suffocate on the fantasy of
Everything it could be.
They will eat your kindness and
Leave you starving and
Make the sound of their voicemail
Your lullaby at night.
You will pour yourself dry
While they swallow all that you have,
And every time you try to leave
They will sing you lies
Wrapped in a shroud of hope
So you stay just a little longer.
But you cannot get lost
In a maze of what-if's.
You are a fire,
And when somebody tries
To dim your light
You must learn how to burn them.
Not everyone is going to appreciate the way you shine.
Find someone who only makes your glow brighter,
And stop settling for someone who is only ever going
To put you out.
Rachel Rode Jan 2018
Two days after you left
I cried an entire ocean into existence
Because who was I without you?
One week after you left
I called you crying and you didn't answer
So I poured my tears into your voicemail box
A month after you left  
I got drunk and deleted all of our texts
Because all they did was remind me of how much I missed you
Three months after you left
I took your number out of my phone
Four months after you left
I realized that I could no longer remember the color of your eyes
Or how it felt to kiss you
I hardly think of you anymore
I have stopped waking with your name on my lips
I waited for you to come back for so long
But I am done waiting
I am giving up on you, not because I don't care
But because you don't
JR Falk Dec 2016
One.
When my mom found us asleep in my bed at 4am and screamed at you to 'Get the **** OUT of her house,' you texted me the very next morning and asked to see me as though it never even happened.

Two.
When my family went out of town without me for Thanksgiving, we stayed the whole day at your place and watched foreign movies and ate pasta.

Three.
On our first date, we sat in your car until 3am just... talking.

Four.
When my sister really wanted that new Pokemon game and my local Walmart sold out, you voluntarily drove almost 5 towns over just so she could get it because you knew I couldn't for her.

Five.
The first time we had ***, I cried. I still don't know why. You held me the whole time.

Six.
You woke me up with tickets to one of my favorite musicians of all time, for a tour I didn't even know about.

Seven.
When my dogs died, you stayed up with my the whole night as I cried. Both times.

Eight.
The first time you kissed me was at a gas pump at 10pm after I changed out of my blouse and into my hoodie.

Nine.
You took me to Buffalo Wild Wings even though you're a vegetarian. You even put up with my singing each 2008 Billboard Top 100 song as it played. I could tell you were embarrassed for me, but you laughed and kissed me anyway.

Ten.
When I told you I hadn't been to the art museum, you took me. When I told you I'd never been to Chipotle, you took me. When I told you I hadn't felt safe in years, you made me feel the safest I ever have.

Eleven.
After you kissed me the first time, you admitted the thing that "made" you kiss me was my purple-stained lips after I ate Superman ice cream while belting out songs terribly and sitting in the passenger seat of your car.

Twelve.
When I told you that you were a terrible tipper and I was a waitress, you immediately stopped tipping terribly.

Thirteen.
You left me a voicemail telling me you appreciated me, that you felt lucky to have me, and you claimed you didn't deserve me. While I disagree, I felt it. That was the first time I heard you say "I love you" before you had actually said the words "I love you."
CJT.
I love you.

11.30.2016
11:02am
Shadow Puppet Dec 2017
Would you protect me if you could?
Would you answer if I called?
Would I never have to leave a voicemail message?
Could I get past depression?
Would you catch me from a building top
If I was to fall
Or would you be like my mom
Stand there and watch it all?
I wrote this on July 7th
Noah Jan 25
Can’t really breathe , butterflies in my stomache. The time turns right and there and then I press the area code. Then the rest. Voicemail , voicemail, excuses, excuses. There pretty good. There basically saying they have a life. But I don’t bothers with those numbers , I have my best friend. But the angel on my shoulder always says” Be careful be careful, remember ,remember Who you call your best friend because you know what can happen.
Elizabeth Nov 2018
seven times in three weeks I cried:
the first time I was teary eyed
when I warmly journaled about you
my heart was hopeful and enveloped by cry number two
the third time was while looking at my empty bookshelves
the cracks and holes began to show themselves
on to four, it ate at my core
five was fun, I was on the phone with my mom
six too, I should have left a voicemail for you
but on the seventh there were only tears of emptiness, of helplessness, of defeat
seven times in three weeks
I cried
and all because of you, my sweet.
emgm Apr 2018
with every breath i breathe,
my lungs collaspe.
such a pain that i cannot bare,
is it supposed to hurt this bad?
my fear finally became a reality,
one that i did try to avoid.
to see her taking my place in your arms,
destroying the one place i called home.
save me, please, i am starting to beg,
save me please, instead.
whenever i fall asleep,
there you are in my dreams.
and i never want to wake up when i see you there.
our departure came quite soon,
and i was never done loving you.
why did you stop loving me?

every call went to voicemail,
every text was left on read,
and still, so many words left unsaid.
****.
When the dear donorcard bill's deliverance kills
& al-Keith McCamelton from Marakeshchester
inherits my corneas (I believe in unicorneas).

When I'm a recreational relic, comminuted & tooted,
chewed or voodoobied by a jejune hoochie *******
professional, Mama Shango - O that Mambo Sheena, she's a
ladydoctor of hooey! When my legbeforewicket bone a.k.a. shin,
not to menchin chin, grin, gelatin untoned (soamilar
to that o' Fatty Soames, who'll be quite a spread when
we eat the rich), & my fey ofay thighs
& my interthigh Fyffes (all fyffe inches), are finely ground
to a juju smeddum Mama Shango crumbles l/ homjom pollen
for a snirtle-haven even humdrum jumbies can't deaden.

When I'm a Uruguayan rugger teammate's
PTSDinner on an Andine ice plate.

When I'm past repulsive rasper, post-pulmonaryvascular massacre;
when I've given up my last gasp because I couldn't ever
make this gasper the last. When I've capitulated my Casper,
after gravel gurgle of my rale de la mort, after my outboardmotor
voicemail a la Monsieur Valdemar. When Alzheimer-
memorrhaging eulogists are ponderous & sotte voce,
as far removed as I at the time mine is up  
from the Fay Wrays, Screamin' Jays,
the rainbow rowdiness of orbling warbs & better days.

When I'm Senor Mucho Sueno, meeting Meesta
Mortimer Mortimer the missingmaker (this latter no
Gallup poll p'ruser, but that illimitable chooser
of every Ryan Otto Thyme from Calcutta to Corsica,
Kent to Lollapalooza). Whether gallbladder bleeders
or Gallipolosers, all of us were or will be absolosers
lapped like a catbowl by that mincemeat
mogul, Trim Reaper, jogging ahead to clock in
chisellaxed floruits where the hyphen's left hanging.  

When I'm dead as a coinop conversion,
depodiumed from 3initialled pantheon
of a special scartlead channel
for 8bitsprites' improbable kungfu,
by a hiscorewayman of the highest scorder,
Mombre's hombre & warriorthumbed wristola,
a lightening limpet on the d-pad
l/ Speedygonzalesterpiggot logrolling an e-dam home.
When I'm PK prey to this *******
of a flyingkickducker, some 'NewBieDie!'-greeting
PewDiePie-beating
finja-ninger l/  90s MooBiePie-
eating Arnold Schwarzensega of electronic yubiwaza,
Danny Curley. Jumplead cannulae in his Jabba The Shutt-in
bingo veins, Danny Curley foresees
w/ Pyrenese peerin' ease
my hadouken, counters w/ a shoryuken.
Game over. Fuqouken.

When I've gone beyond a shocking stroll
on a tumbledown terrain. When I'm jumbled
stoatskin unidentifiable remains.
When erstwhile strappingness is soil steroid,
gristle gift for the roses
'hind a urodorous hospice, when I'm lastminute
saprophytic herbal rohypnol for rose hipsters
(wifebeaters & musefloggers).
From a vulture's mulch blooms
damask artillery in the battle of the sexists,
botanical trope of blandishment
oftpictup w/ twenny Benson & Aspidistras
on a cancaining, Canaanwavy way home,
or requisitioned by a frugal doghouse ghoul
from gardens of engravings.

My carkedit plaque might caveat
'La vie was a lavvy but Eve was veal',
but Ms. Lilith Hewett,
she was sensual suet.
& my carkedit plaque might quote me that
'Life was ngandodowndilly wellingup for real',
yet fumiphant of  my crematory smignels
could divine Ms. Rosebud Bignold
16 again in a smile,  
in the cloud of my claripyre.
For when I'm husk past flames, hark the Sid James
squeal of my subcutaneous sizzling,
the memories of past glories haunter's quanta
among my charnel char, whithersoever it blows
once my urn's spurned.
In posthumous fernweh:
Nantucket, Hunstantucket, Saint-Tropez way?
Nah,the deadbody of a homebody
could not be more stuck in its ways.
For the dead are not so different to the living:
love makes us stay.
I’m on the phone trying reach you
I keep hearing the ringing sound.
It’s you that I want to speak to.
You’re the only one I need to.
My interest is limited
But you are my benefits
Especially when my health is in need.
You’re the only one that wants me to succeed.
More ringing in my ear
For now it’s seems to be clear.
If you’re not answering
Then your not even there.
I wish you pick up the phone

“Please leave a message after the tone!”
“Beeeep!”
“Hello, I haven’t spoke to you in a while. Alright, maybe it hasn’t been a while but with these days being long it feels like it.. “

I called because I wanted to hear your voice.
Speak upon some things
Give this silence a little noise
But all I got is rings.
Now I’m speaking through this voicemail.
Because hearing you is not allowed.
But now I have a choice to tell you.
What I’m thinking about.

I just want to listen and put you on repeat.
I just want to lay down and hear you speak.
I just want one word, two words, or even three.
I just want to hear you speak, I just to hear YOU!
the warm water covers my plastic-like skin
the heat radiates off my goosebumps as I emerge my stringy curls and the fading black hair dye in the water, my blonde roots exposed to the world to show how even my hair is fake as my hidden feelings
I hear the rumbling of the water spilling from the bath
it reminds me of airplanes taking off and the familiar feeling of fear of the unknown and unfamiliar faces
I am trying to get clean, get really clean.
I scrub my greyish skin and peel his fingerprints off my flesh
peel my rough skin like an orange
I scrub the scent of him off the curve in my neck and off my collar bones where the warmth of his chin rested
I take a wet rag to the mountain like ridges of my spine where his affectionate touch created the deep feeling of euphoria
I cradle the back of my ear, near the spot where I displayed the earrings he gave me as a gift and where his hoarse voice sent text messages with his whisper
and the memory of him comes floating back
I start to focus on the way the water splashes against my ears
and suddenly the feeling of isolation and the thought of him  being distant and cold it begins to feel like nails in my closing throat and the air is stale like sandpaper
I struggle to breathe searching for him in the air
I extend my hand away from my throbbing chest
a dense heartbeat that crushes my ribs as I wheeze, my shallow breath sounds as if I am getting oxygen from a clear plastic straw from our favorite restaurant
reaching for someone to pull me from this pool of tears and salty bath water
but the only sound that mutters out of my mouth is "I miss you" like I am leaving a voicemail on his old phone.
the phone we used to stay up laughing on until 3 A.M. but this time nobody is there. he is absent. he is always gone.
my bones ache for his presence
M Aiman A Mar 18
One
Im sorry that i didnt call you a thousand times when we fight

It is just..
There is this one deep scar on my left thumb
it traumatized the heaven out of me

the last time i did that to someone
I left millions of unanswered voicemail
Every single day

Two
I'm sorry that i ran and slept
Whenever the storm brews between us

The last hundreds of storms
Which I went inside only to find myself lost
And got all of these scars on my wrist and hips

I keep telling you that im brave
But im so ******* scared most of the times
Im scared of you not wanting me in the way i wanted you

Three
I'm sorry that you feel the need
To tip toe around the wondrous tread that you have
Around me..

The need to be happy had become a purpose
Protecting my soul from ugliness of life has made me embed an **** scar deep within me

When you are so used to be living underneath the surface
The water above you will feel so terrifying

Im sorry that deep inside im a ******* total mess
A mess that is trying so hard to treat you the way that you deserved

I love you with every breath that i took since the day i realized that I'm loved
And every breath that i will take for the rest of this life

You made me feel like as if
No one has ever touched this **** soul
And broke it into every prospect possible

i can't simply escape
From the life that gave me all of these scars

But don't be scared my love
These scars are fading away anyway
Slowly but confidently
Your scars should never be an excuse to not treat a person the way we should. Scars will go away and heal, and heal it must. They do not and never will define the person you are
Allison Wolf Jan 19
I.
I thought you were the one.
I imagined us flying to Manila, meeting the entire family,
you proposing on the pristine sands of Boracay or
in the small village where you used to play with spiders.
I thought of possible baby names pronounced beautifully
in both of our families' native tongues.

II.
We grew together, abandoned defenses until you were my only confidant.
I still haven’t recovered from the way you used that against me:
Sealing my confessions into bullets in a magazine and making sure
I was centered in the crosshairs of the scope,
a different kind of target practice.

III.
You were my special kind of poison, the kind that slipped through my veins
unnoticed until it corrupted my cardiac muscle and collapsed my lungs.
I ate away at myself until I was small enough not to threaten you,
and even that wasn’t enough.
I finally got the courage to leave you, but I formed a thick cocoon
around my chrysalis of secrets to protect myself from you
and the next.

IV.
It’s been two years and I still have you, your mother,
and every Carlsbad or Mira Mesa area code blocked.
You realized you could invade my voicemail so you rang in 2019,
screaming whiskey-soaked wishes for a better year for us both.
I honestly believe you want that, in your own way.
I wish you the best too, but
I have outgrown you.
January 19, 2019
12:55:55 AM
danny Nov 2018
let me know if i am being too cruel when i say “if we met now would we even recognize each other?”
years of shoving nicotine and alcohol down our throats and foreign mouths on ours amplify the passing of the short amount of time it really has been
it’s not like me to depend on a new substance but god the crackling of a 4 year old voicemail is like the throat hit of a lifetime
my joints still ache like that weekend in the city and i don’t know if i’ll ever stop hurting
i feel like we are fighting the inevitable and i am the only one who knows it
let me know if you get this smoke signal
blackbiird Mar 29

is it weird that I can
see the ghost of you
in this empty apartment?

is it weird that I keep playing
your voicemail before I go to sleep at night?

(I can't help it, your voice comforts me)

is it weird that i can still
taste the cherry cola on your lips
as we shared our final kiss?

is it weird that you've moved on
yet I'm still lying in bed wondering
if you're awake thinking of me too?

Madi Apr 8
all my calls are going to voicemail
you don’t pick up the phone, you don’t show up where you’re supposed to be
I have flashbacks of train tracks and flatlining machines

want to run my hands through your hair
let my lips tell you that I’m here, I’m right here as they’re pressed against yours

The monster in my head is whispering
The same one that lives under my bed

it’s asking me why you didn’t trust me enough to let me be there

it’s reminding me that I’ve been close to having blood on my hands before

it’s running memories in my head like home movies

im pushing past the crowd, I’m reaching for you

There’s never going to be a world where my light is off, my phone is on silent, and my doors locked

I’m here whenever you need it darling

the porch light is on if you find your way to this part of town, I’m here if you remember for long enough that that used to mean something to us
I just want to feel your love
why can't I feel your love

I just want to see you walk through that door
why can't I ever call your name
and know you are already home

I just want to call you
why can't I even call your cellphone
and know that it won't go to voicemail

I ...
I just want to see you
why don't I know who you are
right in front of me
but I could tell you more about a stranger's life than yours

I just want to feel your love
Is that too much to ask ?

I just want to feel your love, dad
to lost hopes
Seanathon May 12
Dear May
Check your memos
Your voicemail and fax
Because it feels like April today
And it's a full twelve days
Since your sister has supposedly
"Gone away"
Dear May
If by chance I call & you don't pick up.
Take a message.
Take a message.
If by chance I call & your fast asleep.
Record me in your dreams.
& when you wake up I'll see you soon.
Greeted by the sound of your voice.
Only a call away.
If by chance I call & you can only talk for a moment.
Then I'll spend a moment in honest truth.
The moments quickly falling in the past.
Your smile always with me.
If by chance I call & you don't pick up.
Take a message.
Take a message.
Take a message so when you play it back
You'll always have a reason to smile.
Whether your busy.
Or simply just don't have the time.
Take a message.
Take a message
Sara Gober May 13
The day you died, I was sitting on my bed
listening to ****** post-punk on YouTube,
wondering whether a boy that, in retrospect, really ******
was going to call me back.

We were fourteen years old. I thought about death a lot less then.
You sent me your eulogy over text and I hesitated –
one second, five seconds, ten –
and when I called you, I got your voicemail.

You hardly ever know when you save someone.
You always know when you don’t.

I am twenty-one years old now,
and there are still some days when everything I have
feels like a stolen luxury –
something I cannot afford. Something I do not deserve to have.

I am still here and you are not,
and this is something that I have trouble with, even now.
I’m married now. I have a nice apartment,
a husband and two dogs who love me unconditionally.
I moved from the barren desert of our home
to the heavy-hanging green of the South,
ivy on the street signs, humidity in the air.

I would give anything for you to have this.
I would give everything for you to see the after,
the peace and light that came eventually, finally.

I can never shake the feeling that it’s you, and not me,
who should be here.

I take deep breaths in the forest by the coast,
the trees too thick for any sun to shine through.
I still hear your laugh echoing through them.
Work in progress. Mostly just venting feelings.

— The End —