Less Words

At the phone, I stare

waiting for signals

burning like fireflies,

embers and ashes

through the wire.

Fall into thoughts

less words.

 

The longest night

of killing the hours.

Pushing freewill.

Catching Morse codes-

to smoke or not

to smoke puff floats

in luminescent air.

 

You win again.

When the cable lines

gather raindrops

hanging low, dazed.

And confused as if

glimmering like tears

I, since the morning,

broken at a distance.

 

Like other nights

betting on a chance,

my silence is born.

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