As you spoke,

He listened--

Or you assumed so

 

Sometimes he accidently

Dropped the phone

As you spoke long narratives,

 

Recounts of your years

Entailing your most intimate thoughts

You heard his tears.

 

At times, you hear cracks,

Or a loud rumbling noise.

Fear crept in as you assumed

 

The dark had come to collect

His lost soul.

 

The soul of whom belonged to He,

He who abandoned you in your darkest hour.

 

Why should you be there for him? His

Appearance only seen through the

Bleak phone screen.

 

If you wish to witness the old He,

Use the net, and

Script from your memories.

 

He’s not gone yet, but it’s coming-

I feel it with every

Change of the moon.

 

Mother makes light of his

Everlasting despair,

But every thought to you

Is another rip or tear.

 

You once imagined your wedding;

The infamous release of a father’s

Protection over his daughter

To the man of her dreams.

 

Or your graduation ceremony;

The look of acceptance,

Fear and accomplishment,

All wrapped into one.

 

Now? Fade to black.

A irreplaceable feeling-

A feeling of pedantic

 

Emptiness - a hole that

Can never be filled again.

The hardest part?

Hanging up.

 

It tore at your soul like a

Pack of wild beats-

Ripping and shredding every

Hint of human flesh.

 

Probably because you knew

You’d never speak to him again.