• My brain never learned to appreciate the soft lines my eyes fed it
    until the day you died.
    Now, for hours on end I can sit and miss your distorted finger joints
    your blurry wrist bones
    the way you said things when we were alone

    I've found a good drinking friend in the dial tone
    I've found the operator's breath to be quite soothing after the fifth round
    and I've found that
    if I sit long enough with a phone to my ear
    my brain makes it easier to imagine that you exist
    and so I sit and discuss good times
    trace over red lines
    close the blinds and pace til the sun comes up
    and sometimes I manage to forget you're no longer here