if you’ve ever left me a voicemail
“Boo, i just missed you, call me back, love you“
and i’ve ever loved you
in any way at any time
“do you want me to grab some ice cream on the way home?”
it’s still there
a frozen moment in technology
“thinking of you, I’m guessing you’re not ready to talk. Love you. I’m here.”
i don’t listen to them
*except for this poem
“hey could you bring an extra chair down?”
but the idea of deleting
even a tiny part of you
“I love you. If you’re sleeping have a good sleep”
is unimaginable
“hey, i’m here, call me back”
and to be human is to have dark thoughts
“love you, bye”
and if i do not have you someday
“thinking about the graveyard, want to go for a walk?”
at least when my heart aches
i’ll have your voice
“Love you, bye”
so many of you live
like lifelines to the past
“i’m at my desk now, holler at me”
that i thankfully haven’t had to use yet
“give me a phone call back please”
the rarity of love
combined with the reassurance of your voices
“talk to you soon, bye”
selfishly prempts closure
“just me, I’ll try you tomorrow”
because i love you
and if your voice is saved
i’ll always have a part of you
“We’ll be home at four, bye”
so if you give me a call
and i don’t pick up
leave me a message
- photo by author
- This is my own work and has not been generated in whole or in part by AI
This was lovely River, such a haunting but sweet poem to the loved ones voices we keep like a time capsule in our voicemails.
Thank you, I never delete a voicemail, it’s probably for slightly darker reasons than I’d like to admit, a “just in case”, but also sometimes it brings back the bits of conversation we had when we talked on the phone or in person after.
I’m the same way for (perhaps also slightly dark reasons) never delete them, but this piece was such a cool concept/idea of holding onto them!