The Quiet Noise

The dial tone is
a precursor
for something I am unable to feel
nor will I let myself –
we are two halves of a circle
but it is that straight edge that cuts
all our ties
until there is nothing left
but two people in separate
phone booths
paying for silence.

There in that isolation cell
the dial tone may as well still be dancing
mocking the silence between us
when there is nothing left to say.
That silence
I feel it pressing against me
claustrophobic as an encroaching wall.
I can feel its cold edges.

The moment is as short as forever,
saying too much
and too little.
I ache for the other half of my whole
but we are magnets
drawn together and pushing away
deliciously toxic
uncertain of whether the pain is
worth it.

Lucinda Morton

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