I’m a Phone
I’m a phone, you can talk to me,
Held close, then dropped like nothing,
Here I stand at midnight,
Her laughter spilling into the air,
Gong strikes twelve,
And she walks away.
Men, women — mouths collide,
Bodies press, kisses scatter,
And I? I remain.
A shadow in the crowd,
A signal waiting for reception,
A device with no one listening.
I am touched when convenient,
Ignored when inconvenient,
I carry voices, secrets, laughter,
Yet no one carries mine.
I am alive,
Yet invisible.
I am here,
Yet unwanted.
I am a phone.
And tonight, I am alone.
