Each Time The Phones Rings

I stare at the little square box with the rubber keys,

Willing it to sing his number,

Knowing it never will.

This has been my life since the moment we have met,

A sweet hell on earth that,

One I never knew before.

Some days I wish I had never met him,

Other days I’m glad I did,

But either way it doesn’t stop me from waiting for his call every day and night,

Hoping he’ll reach out just a little with one quick call,

Hoping he’ll let me know that at least for a moment I have crossed his mind.

Each time the phone rings my heart skips a beat,

Hopes that his voice is the one I’ll hear across the line,

Soon it breaks just a little more as I realize it’s not him,

Then I start off yet again…just waiting him again.

I’m ashamed to be such a school girl,

Hate to be so weak,

But each time the phone rings it’s that hope that I keep.


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kdstorm
Poetry
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writing kdstorm
The eyes are the windows of desires yet to see the light of day.
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