Call, you idiot

Just talking to her settles me.

I love the call. I love it all:
The silly in the serious,
Delightfully delirious,
The mask I drop so she can hear
The quiver in my voice so clear.

What stops me, then, from calling her?

Like holding on can save my life,
But letting go will ease my palms.
No wonder both my hands are clean,
While rest of me is Jackson Pollock
On the ledge of bottom rock.

%d bloggers like this: