by Arran James
making electronic ghosts
i can’t hold
or quite say what i need to.
why did you call?
to hear the voice of the one
you do still love? or some saner thing,
it doesn’t even matter why.
i haven’t heard your voice in such a long while
and still hope to hear sweeter words
less pregnant with evasions.
you sound like you’re doing better now,
almost happy even.
i struggle not to cry. and then i sink
beneath the water, pretending i am yet
to be born.