sometimes i can still hear your voice in
my head, gravely, compelling, calm.
sometimes in whispers, sometimes in
normal conversations. smoky, magic.
i would hold the phone close to my ear
on those magic nights when you would
call me from work and i would try and
drown myself in the tone and timbre of
it never worked.
i remember the first time i heard you speak.
it was late at night and i was still in Michigan,
dreaming of the day we'd be together. i'd
talk to you over the microphone on my
computer, but you couldn't respond because
she would overhear and maybe wake up.
i believed the lies. every one of them. i told
nothing but the truth. i thought that that's
what lovers do.
sometimes, i swear i hear you talking to me still,
but it's just the sound of the wind, or the cry of
hope died not long after you stopped calling.
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